Fair Game
by drwatsonn
Summary: James Potter needed a fake girlfriend. Cleo Capaldi just needed to not get kicked off the Quidditch team for failing all her classes. When they agree to get together for James to woo the woman of his dreams - Lily Evans - they expect a mutually beneficial transaction and nothing more... Right? (Marauders' Era)
1. A Favor for a Favor

**Disclaimer: **_All rights go to JK Rowling. Anything you don't recognize is mine._

**It's me, back with yet another story... Y'all have _Epochs _to thank for this one, though. This is, after all, dedicated to her and our mutual love for one James Potter. **

**I know! A fake-dating fic! Totally original! But I do hope you like it all the same.**

**Let's get to it, shall we?**

* * *

**Chapter One**

**A Favor for a Favor**

When James Potter approached me in the library, sopping wet and reeking of sewage, I knew my life was never going to know peace again.

My night hadn't been going well to begin with. I was already behind on all my homework assignments, and we were barely a month into the term. I'd ditched dinner early to go to the library and at least _try _to get something done – reluctantly leaving my friends and our plans to listen to our favorite late-night talk show on the wireless, _Visions with Vanessa_ – but that plan had backfired tremendously when I saw James walking toward me – or, rather, heard.

His shoes squeaked with every step, and when he took the seat across from mine at the table in the farthest corner, he plopped down with a wet slap that I made a face at.

Abandoning my essay for Transfiguration (which I'd only written out the title for in the last twenty minutes), I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. "Rough day, James?"

He grinned at me – half-sheepish, half-gloating. "Hasn't been all bad, Cleo. I had a lovely breakfast this morning – porridge with cinnamon – and after that I took a nice stroll around the lake—"

"Where you promptly joined the giant squid for a relaxing swim?" I asked, gesturing to his drenched clothes and still-dripping hair.

He waved me off. "I'm getting there. I haven't even told you the best part of my day yet!"

I sighed and began to put away my parchment and quill as he described what he'd had for lunch in detail. Despite the lack of progress on my homework already, I had no hope of finishing it tonight now that James was here. The obnoxious seventeen-year-old boy talked for the sake of listening to his own voice, and even though I'd been on the Gryffindor Quidditch team with him for the past five years, I'd yet to find a way to shut him up without resorting to violent measures.

"So _then, _after dinner, the lads and I decided that it was time to unveil our first prank of the year—"

"Wait." I held up a hand. "You mean you pulled a prank? That's why you're wet and reek to high Hell?" When he only grinned and pointed his fingers in a _you got me there _motion, I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "James, aren't you Head Boy this year? I thought the pranks were supposed to stop?"

"I said _most _of them would stop," he said. "Like, the jinxes in the corridors? Hexing people at random? Dungbombs at the dinner table? Yeah, we're done with the little things. But, Cleo – we've _always _done big back-to-school pranks. We couldn't give up our tradition, could we?"

I sighed again, blowing a stray wisp of hair from my face that had escaped my braid. "You couldn't have done it when I was actually _there, _though?" I waved a hand around me. "I've been stuck in here for the past hour bored out of my bloody mind!"

He shrugged. "Your fault for skipping out on dinner early to be a stick in the mud."

"All right, fine. But what was the prank? Why are you wet?"

"We may or may not have snuck in a water cannon from Zonko's."

"And?"

"And we may or may not have given it to Peeves."

I groaned and pretended to bang my head on the table. "Why do I always miss out on everything _fun?" _

"Do you wanna hear what happened next, or do you wanna cry a little more?"

I sat up and flipped him off. He laughed and ran a hand through his hair, showering the table with more droplets of water.

"Well, apparently Peeves decided it would be funnier to fill the cannon with water from the toilets—"

"—I mean, you gave a poltergeist free rein, what did you think was gonna happen—"

"—But what _wasn't _funnier was when he took aim for a certain redhead I happen to be in love with—"

"—Of course you found some way to involve Lily, why am I not surprised—"

"—And so _I, _being the dashing and gallant hero that I am, threw myself in front of her and took the brunt of the attack." He mockingly bowed. "James Potter saves the day yet again. Hold your applause."

I leaned back in my seat. "So, how'd she take it?"

"Take what?"

"You saving her, or whatever you're calling it." I flapped a hand at him. "Let me guess: cold shoulder? A single biting remark before she stalked away? A Bat-Bogey?"

He scraped at something on the table with his fingernail, not making eye contact with me as he said, "Try yelling at me in front of the whole school for 'instigating such an immature and irresponsible attack' and 'tainting the reputation and name of Head Boy.'" He shook his head. "It's not my fault that Peeves went for her! He was supposed to only target the Slytherins! That was the agreement!"

He sat back, exasperated. I watched him fume for a moment, his jaw working, before I spoke up. "Well, what's the damage?"

"Detention with McGonagall for the rest of the week. I was already there, and I didn't deny my involvement when she asked. I wanted to take the fall for the others, too. Sirius is already on some thin ice with her after Filch found that firewhiskey in his trunk when we got off the train, Peter can't afford another detention or his mum will lose it, and this week is already bad enough for Remus with the—" He stopped abruptly and cleared his throat. "I just didn't want them to get in trouble. The prank was supposed to go off without a hitch, anyway. But that's what I get for trusting Peeves."

Many people wondered why I had put up with James Potter's antics for so many years. He could be loud, abrasive, arrogant, and just completely unpredictable. He even had a bit of a bullying streak a few years back, but that was before I'd ever even considered myself his friend. His friends – his only friends, despite being one of the most popular blokes at Hogwarts and the loads of acquaintances from that – were Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. They were more than his friends – they were his brothers. And that fact alone was why I put up with him. The bloke had just put himself in detention for his friends. That fierce loyalty of his had always struck me, and it was one of the reasons why I'd tolerated him throughout the years.

"That blows, but it could be worse." I eyed him questioningly. "Why are you here? Obviously, you've got something important to spit out if you didn't even bother with a shower or change of clothes first."

"Oh, right. That." He tugged out his wand from the back pocket of his trousers and waved it, wordlessly. His clothes dried instantly, and the water vanished from his hair, though it still stuck out at every angle. He grinned at me, smug. "Better?"

"You still stink." His grin only widened. "Since when do you know non-verbal magic?"

"Since I'm in Seventh and you're still an ickle Sixth Year."

I rolled my eyes. "Wow. Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, and you know non-verbal magic? I can't believe no one worships you yet. You're just _so _amazing at everything!"

"I'm glad you understand." He sagged in his chair. "I just wish Evans would see it, too."

"Ugh. If you're going to moan about Lily, will you please do it in the opposite corner? I have homework to do."

He shot me an annoyed look. "You mean the homework you already put away? The one with only a title written?"

I sniffed. "My name's on it, too."

"Clee, we've talked about this. McGonagall said that if you pull the same shit last year and don't turn in your work on time and keep getting poor marks, then she's yanking you off the team."

"I know, I know." I sighed. "You don't need to lecture me. I already got the same speech from my parents forty times over the summer."

He nudged my knee under the table with his foot. "Then get on it. I can't lose the second-best Chaser on the team, can I?"

"Wait, _second_-best?" I wrinkled my nose. "Who the bloody hell is the first?"

"Me, obviously."

I snorted. "First Lily, now Quidditch? Will your delusions ever end?"

He kicked my shin. I swore. "Watch it, Capaldi. Or I'll make you do extra conditioning at practice."

I glared at him, rubbing my leg. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me." He grinned, but it quickly faded. "I just don't know what to do about Evans, Cleo."

I pointed to the opposite corner. "You're moping. Go."

He frowned. "But you always listen to my Lily troubles."

"Yeah, and that's the problem," I retorted. _"Always."_

He sighed. "Just hear me out? Please?" When I said nothing, he took that as a cue to continue. "It's my last year at Hogwarts. And while Lily doesn't necessarily _hate _me anymore, she still thinks I'm an immature prat and won't give me the time to show her otherwise."

I studied him closely. He looked so dejected, like a kicked puppy, that I just had to take pity on him. "You're really that into her, huh? 'She's the one' and everything?"

He nodded, his gaze lost out the window behind me. "Yeah. I just _feel _it, y'know? It's like – _fate _or something."

"Okay, don't get all sappy on me, or else I won't care anymore," I said, flapping my hand. "But she's Head Girl, right? So, you'll be spending a lot of time with her this year. Working together to make the rest of our lives miserable and all that."

"Very funny." He pinched the bridge of his nose, just under where his glasses rested. "I dunno, Clee. I dunno what she's thinking, or what she wants."

"Don't look at me." I raised my hands when he glared at me. "I don't know her."

"What's the point of you being my only mate that's a girl if you can't help me with my girl troubles?"

"If you based your only qualification for a 'girl mate' on me having boobs, then clearly you're the one who missed the point, mate."

He didn't answer, his gaze returning to the window. His fingers drummed on the table, and his lips quirked into the expression I recognized as his scheming face – meaning he was thinking through an awful idea.

"Stop what you're doing," I said. He looked back to me innocently – _too _innocently. "Whatever you're thinking, stop right there. I am _not _getting dragged into another one of your idiotic plans."

"Not even for a favor?"

I froze. His face turned downright devilish. He knew he had me.

Favors were what started my strange friendship with James Potter four years ago. When I first joined the Quidditch team, he used his age and rank to get me to do "favors" for him – watching the corridors while he and his friends set up their next prank, saving him the best treacle tart at dinner if he was stuck in detention, putting away his gear after practice so he could run off to cause more mayhem, and so on. Eventually, I demanded favors in return for doing all his dirty work – a favor for a favor. Miraculously, he'd agreed to my request, and for the last several years, we'd done tons of odd favors for each other. Our only rules: don't ask, and no backing out. It was a wonderfully symbiotic relationship – and he knew that, too.

He gestured to my book bag, where my pitiful excuse for an essay poked out.

"A favor for a favor," he said. "I'll help you with your homework if you agree to do me a favor in return."

I kept my face neutral. "What's your price?"

His nose crinkled. "Dunno. I haven't thought of it yet. But I'll get back to you when I decide."

"Just my Transfiguration homework?"

"Defense, too. Charms is pushing it. Anything else, nah."

"How long?"

He tilted his head. "How long for you to accept?"

I deliberated for a moment. "Until the winter holidays."

He whistled. "You drive a hard bargain, Capaldi."

"Do you want me to get booted off the team or not?"

"Shit. Fair point." He sighed. "Fine. I'll help you with your homework until the winter holidays, in exchange for a favor of my own, to be called in at a later time. Are we in agreement?"

I smirked. "I believe we are."

He spit into his palm and held it out to me. "You solemnly swear?"

"What is it with you and 'solemnly swear?'" I asked, rolling my eyes. "You say it every time we make a deal. Is it like your catchphrase or something?"

He grinned. "Something like that." He wiggled his fingers. "You gonna shake on it?"

"Fine, fine, whatever." I spit into my hand. "I solemnly swear."

We shook on it.

"Brilliant." He got to his feet and shoved his wand back into his pocket. "I'll be in touch."

"Oh, James? Before you go?" He turned and frowned when he saw my titled essay in my hand and a wicked smile on my face. "Our deal starts now."

* * *

**Let me know what you think so far! I always appreciate hearing from my readers!**

**xx**


	2. Take on Me

**Disclaimer: **_All rights go to JK Rowling. Anything you don't recognize is mine._

**WOW. The response so far to this story has been incredible. Thank you to everyone who decided to take a chance on this fic! I hope you'll continue to enjoy it!**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**Take on Me**

The Great Hall was silent save for the occasional rustling of papers and quills scratching against parchment. Every now and then, someone would cough or clear their throat—normal noises. What wasn't normal—the continuous clack of a quill falling onto a table.

This noise was courtesy of me. I hated study hall—always have. I mean, a whole block of my day dedicated to studying and homework? Wasn't it enough that I had to sit through four or five boring classes already? But no—let's make Cleo suffer more by _forcing _her to do work!

I tilted my head back and balanced my quill on the bridge of my nose again. Professor McGonagall (that day's monitor) was over at the Slytherin table on the opposite side of the Hall, and thus couldn't see my antics. I figured I had about five more minutes before she circled back to the Gryffindor table and I'd have to pretend to work again, so I took advantage of my short free time to see if I could hold the quill perfectly still on my nose.

It wobbled dangerously, teetering back and forth, before falling to the table with a loud rattle. Ignoring the looks from my fellow Sixth Years, I picked it up and tried again. It hardly touched my nose before sliding right off. Before it could clatter on the table again, a hand reached out and caught it from beside me.

"Nice save, Leigh," I said, turning to my friend with a grin. "When I make Captain next year, consider you drafted for Keeper."

Leigh rolled her eyes, setting my quill down just out of reach. "I'm saving you from McGonagall's wrath—_again." _

I waved my hand. "She's over by the Slytherins. It's not like she can hear anything over the sounds of them screeching about blood purity."

Leigh cast a skeptical look to the quiet, diligently working Slytherins. "I wish you'd stop making comments like that. You know that not all of them are blood supremacists, or future Death Eaters."

"Well, you know what they say about a few bad apples." I held my hand out to her and wiggled my fingers. "Can I have my quill back, please?"

She pushed it across the table, where it was swept up by our other friend and roommate, Renee Warrington.

"You'll get it back when you actually do some work," she said, arching a brow. "I haven't seen you write a thing since we've sat down."

"I don't need to do work when I have James doing it for me." I thrust my arm across the table. "Quill. Please."

Renee's face soured. "I can't believe you got Potter to agree to do your homework. It's _so _unfair."

"You can always ask your dear Sirius for his notes."

She glanced away, brushing a piece of honey-blonde hair behind her shoulder. "We're not exactly speaking to each other right now. So, that's out of the cards."

"Again?" I shook my head, exasperated. "What happened this time?"

"Nothing happened," she said, defensive. "We just agreed that maybe it would be easier to see other people if we weren't so…"

"Disgustingly in love with one another?" I ducked when she threw my own quill at me. "Oi!"

Leigh snickered at her mutinous look as I scuttled on the floor to grab my quill. "Cleo _does _have a point. You two were made for each other. Why fight it?"

"Because we have our whole lives ahead of us," she said, flapping her hand. "Who wants to get tied down at the age of seventeen? That sounds like torture."

"Try telling that to James," I said, rejoining them at the table, quill securely in hand. "Bloke wants to marry Evans as soon as they graduate, the sap."

Renee snorted. "As if. They're barely on speaking terms, last I recall."

"They have been a lot more civil with each other since term started," Leigh pointed out. "Maybe Dumbledore making them Heads together was a smart move, after all."

"Dumbledore's barking," I said, tilting my head back again. I placed the quill on my nose. "That's why he did it. No other reason—"

"Capaldi!"

I flinched at the sound of my name. My quill, once again, took a sad plunge to the floor. Professor McGonagall stood behind me, hands on her hips and her face pinched into her signature disapproving frown. My quill rolled to a stop at her feet. She didn't bother picking it up.

"Professor," I squeaked. "Hi."

There weren't a lot of things in this world that scared me besides acromantulas and Professor Minerva McGonagall. But where acromantulas and the Transfiguration professor differed was that the giant spiders had eight eyes and legs, and the professor didn't. Their bite was exactly the same, though: venomous and deadly.

The professor's dark eyes traveled from my face to the blank piece of parchment on the table. Her lips thinned.

"I want to see words on that paper before study hall is over, Miss Capaldi," she said, her voice stern and unyielding. "Anything less than a paragraph, and it's points off."

"Yes, Professor." I nodded vigorously. "I'll get right on it."

She flicked her wand and my quill came to rest by my hand. Then she was off in a swirl of emerald robes. I breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Told you so," Leigh muttered under her breath.

I flipped her off before resigning myself to scribble a paragraph about Gamp's Law that was sure to be wrong.

I couldn't wait for study hall to be over.

* * *

"This is the most bogus thing I've ever seen in my life."

I snatched the parchment from James's hands, scowling. I'd asked him to look over the pathetic excuse for a paragraph I'd written in study hall, but I was beginning to regret that now after seeing the incredulous look on his face he'd made while reading.

"It's hard to write an essay for something you know nothing about," I retorted, shoving the parchment into my book bag and slamming the locker door shut. We had just changed into our Quidditch robes, ready for that evening's practice. I grabbed my broomstick and marched out to the pitch, James in tow.

"Don't you own a copy of the spellbook needed for N.E.W.T. Transfiguration?" he asked, easily falling into step beside me with his much longer legs. "Y'know, the one that's _required _for the course?"

I sniffed. "Of course I do."

"Have you bothered opening it since buying it?"

My silence was answer enough. He sighed. "Look, Clee, I know I agreed to help you with your homework, but I still need _some _effort from you. I'm more than willing to lend you my notes and give you pointers, but I'm not going to do the damn thing for you. I have my own work, too."

I huffed. "Yes, yes, I know." I ran a gloved hand over my braid and tugged on the end of it. "I'll do my best. It'll suck, fair warning—but I'll try."

He tapped my shoulder with the handle of his broom. "That's the spirit, Capaldi. Now, keep it up; ten laps around the pitch. No flying."

He raised his voice after saying my name, so the players milling in the center of the pitch heard him, too. Everyone groaned, but he silenced them with a sharp look.

"No complaints. Not if we want to win the Cup this year. What are we?"

"Gryffindors," we all said, half-heartedly.

"WHAT ARE WE?"

"GRYFFINDORS!"

He nodded. "Much better. After laps, we'll grab our brooms and practice some of those plays before we split for dinner. All right?"

Everyone nodded before setting their brooms down and grudgingly beginning to jog. I stayed with James as one of the players peeled off from the group and came to join us, strolling lazily across the grass.

"Sparing yourself from the torture of your own making, Prongs?" Sirius Black said to James. He nodded to me when he got closer, his grin fading. "Capaldi."

I nodded back. "Black."

Though Sirius was James's best friend and my teammate for the last five years, I'd never say we were more than just acquaintances. I rather thought he was an arrogant bastard with an inflated sense of self-importance, and I'd never really approved of his on-again, off-again relationship with Renee. I wasn't blind; I knew he cared for her, but I also knew that he was far too immature to ever settle with her—something _he _knew as well, after I'd chewed him out for it last year. Since then, we pretty much tried to avoid each other at all costs; except for Quidditch, where we were forced to be teammates.

Sirius grinned at James. Godric, it really was unfair how handsome he was. How was I supposed to dislike a face that pretty?

"Are you going to do laps with us, Captain, or are you just going to hold the whip?" he said.

James smirked. "I'll think about it, Padfoot." He jerked his chin to the jogging players. "Go on ahead; I'll catch up. I just need to talk to Cleo first."

Sirius and I shared a quizzical glance. Apparently, neither of us knew what he was referring to, but Sirius shrugged. "All right. See you in a few."

He took off, shaggy black hair bouncing with each step. Even his every move was graceful. Ugh.

James snickered beside me. "You could at least _try _looking a little less disgusted, Clee."

I sighed. "Sorry, sorry." I shook my head. "I know he's your best mate and all, but Renee is _my _best mate. And you know I don't approve of him leading her on for so long."

He looked uncomfortable, ruffling up his untidy hair even more. "Ah, he doesn't mean to. He just…has a lot he has to sort through."

I glanced sidelong to him. "Is he still living with you?"

He nodded. "Yeah. He says he plans on getting his own place soon—apparently, his Uncle Alphard wasn't a complete bastard, and actually left him a sizeable fortune in his will." He blew out his cheeks. "His mother wasn't pleased, I'm sure you could guess. She tried to go to the Wizengamot, get his inheritance voided since she'd disowned him. But they sided with Sirius, since he's of legal age and the will was a binding contract."

"Damn." I whistled. "I may not like him all that much, but that's still shitty." I nudged him with my elbow. "I'm glad he has you, though. You've always been good to him."

He waved me off, modest. "I'd do it for any of my friends."

We watched our teammates complete another lap before I spoke again. "So, what did you have to speak to me about?"

"Oh. That." He turned to me with a mischievous grin. "I've thought of my favor."

"And?"

His grin widened. "I think it's quite brilliant. But you'll have to wait until after practice to hear the details." He gestured to the jogging players. "Ten laps, Capaldi."

I stared, affronted. "Are you serious?"

"Nah, I'm James." He pointed to Sirius. _"That's _Sirius. And you should catch up to him; you're already two laps behind."

I thrust my broom into his hand as he laughed. "Your death will be slow and painful."

Disgruntled, I went to join my teammates, James still laughing behind me. "Ten laps, Capaldi!"

I flipped him off with both fingers, not sparing a glance back. His laughter followed me around the pitch, and I swore then that he would pay for this.

* * *

Practice was dreadful.

I trudged into the changing rooms with the rest of the team, sweaty and sore. James had put us through the wringer, drilling us on plays before finishing off with a long and brutal scrimmage. I wasn't sure what his strategy was; our first match with Hufflepuff was still two months away. Was he trying to exhaust us before then?

James, of course, wasn't nearly as tired as the rest of us, though he'd played just as hard. He whistled cheerily as he swapped his Quidditch robes for our black school robes, while the rest of us could barely form a sentence.

I swung my bag over my shoulder and grabbed my broom, about to head to dinner, before James's voice held me back.

"Cleo, stay behind a minute."

I turned, weary. I wasn't even interested in hearing about his favor anymore, I was so tired.

Our teammates cast me curious looks as they filed out, heading back to the castle. Sirius stayed, glancing between us in confusion. James jerked his head at him.

"Go on, Pads. I'll meet you and the lads for dinner in a few minutes."

Sirius still looked confused, but he shrugged. "Suit yourself." He left without a word to me, leaving James and me alone in the changing rooms.

James took his sweet time collecting his things, not speaking to me. I waited, my impatience growing by the minute. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

"You planning on leaving me in suspense forever?" I asked him.

He shot me a wry grin. "Something like that."

"C'mon, James, I'm starving," I groaned. "Can't we just talk on our way to dinner?"

"Fine, fine, you big baby," he said. He hoisted his bag and broom over his shoulder. "Let's go, before you throw another tantrum."

I pushed my way out of the changing rooms with a scowl. "I don't throw tantrums."

He raised his eyebrows at me as we made our way out of the pitch, back to the castle. "After the match with Ravenclaw last year? When they beat us by two hundred points? I seem to recall you chucking your broom at Bertram Aubrey and threatening to beat the poor bloke senseless with his own bat."

"That match was bullshit, and you know it." I shook my head. "But I seem to recall you and Sirius using an illegal jinx on him the next day and sending him to the Hospital Wing with a head the size of Hagrid's pumpkins."

He chuckled. "Yeah. That one was fun."

In the gathering dusk, it was hard to see his face, but I could see the gleam of his teeth when he smiled. I punched his shoulder lightly. "So, what's this mysterious favor?"

"Oh. Right. That." He shifted the weight of his broom and cleared his throat. "So, er, just hear me out first before you say no. But all this last week, I've been thinking. And what's my biggest problem besides the conundrum that is Lily Evans?"

I gave him a cautious look that he must've missed in the dark. "Go on."

"My issue is that she doesn't see me in the way that I see her. The whole time we've been at Hogwarts, she's seen me as nothing but an arrogant, bullying toerag."

"I mean, you _were_…"

He waved me off. "I know, I know. And I still feel shitty for the way I acted back then. I was a total prat, no denying." He sighed. "But I got over that, and I think Evans noticed. But not in the way that I want. We're civil now, yeah, but Cleo—I can tell she feels something deeper. More than acquaintances, or partners, or friends. I know her—she's stubborn 'til the end, that one. And I _know _she won't admit that she has feelings for me. Not unless she has a reason to do so."

"It's nice to see you using that peanut-sized brain of yours."

He swiped at me, but missed by a foot since he couldn't see me. "Yeah, well, this peanut-sized brain came up with the most brilliant plan to get Evans to realize she's utterly in love with me."

"And what's that, Lover Boy?"

"I have to date someone else to make her jealous."

I blinked. "Okay. And?"

"That's where your favor comes in."

"Really? You waited a whole day to build up to this? If you wanted a list of girls that you can date, James, I have one the length of this broomstick. You wouldn't believe how many girls are disgustingly obsessed with you and your Marauder friends—"

"I don't want a list, Cleo," he said. "If I picked just any bird, Evans would see right through me, and detest me. I need someone plausible—someone that wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. Someone I spend a lot of time with and who I'm clearly friends with."

I nodded slowly. "Peter's out of the question, then. Sorry, mate, but the lad just doesn't have the looks to pull it off. Remus could be an option—he's rather cute. But _Sirius_—now that's the winner. Fit as hell, the bad boy type, _and _you two are so close that it's rather gross—"

"Wait, what? You're talking about me dating Sirius?" He sounded outraged. "_No, _Cleo. You're missing the point entirely."

"Am I? C'mon—you two would be great together. You're two sides of the same coin. You'd go down as the most legendary Hogwarts couple to ever exist."

We'd reached the castle by this point. The light spilling out of the Entrance Hall onto the front steps illuminated us again, and I had to laugh at the look of sheer offense on his face.

"I'm not dating Sirius," he said. "No. Absolutely not. Out of the question."

I leaned against my broomstick and sighed. "Fine. So, who's your target?"

He glanced to the double doors of the school and ran a hand through his hair. With the doors wide open to the evening and dinner in full swing just beyond, we could hear the babble and chatter of the dining students from the Great Hall. When he looked back to me, the light from the castle glinted off his glasses, turning his hazel eyes to gold.

He grimaced and said, "You?"

I stared at him, absorbing the absurdity of what he'd just said. "Me?"

He rushed to explain. "Cleo, it makes perfect sense. We've known each other for years—play on the same team, in the same House, and everyone knows that we're friends. We get along, and, well—"

"I'm the only girl who makes logical sense?" I finished.

He nodded. "Yeah. Yes. And I know I'm calling it a favor, and that our rules say you can't back out, but I know what I'm asking is out there. I'll give you a loophole if you want to say no—"

"Okay," I said.

He stopped rambling. "Okay?"

"Okay, I'll do it, doofus."

He stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "Really? W-why?"

I smoothed a hand over my braid and shrugged. "It's a win-win. You've already agreed to help me with my homework until the holidays, and you're cashing in your favor. Not to mention that it would benefit _me, _too, by getting all these annoying blokes off my back trying to ask me to Hogsmeade and stuff."

He still looked stunned. "What?"

I rolled my eyes. "I dunno if you've noticed, doofus, but I'm not hideous. Blokes ask me out, and I want it to stop. I'm not interested in any of them. Having a boyfriend—even a fake one—would get them to shut up."

He opened and closed his mouth several times before saying, "I…wasn't expecting this to go this easily. I had a speech prepared for you and everything."

"Well, save it." I shrugged again. "I'll do it."

He glanced to the castle and then back to me. "Er…cool. So, what's our deal? How long do we keep this up?"

I deliberated. "Until Christmas. If you can't get Evans to like you back by then, then we'll stop. No use dragging it out forever."

"Sounds good." He ruffled up his hair some more. "You know we'll have to pretend like we're actually dating, right? Going to Hogsmeade, holding hands and such…"

I snorted. "I'm not repulsed by human contact, even if it is you that I'll be holding hands with. Kidding." I grinned when he frowned. "You're saying all this as if we're going to be snogging in some empty classroom. It doesn't even have to go that far. Just the rumor that we're dating should be enough."

"You're right." He nodded. "Er, we shouldn't dive right in, though. I was thinking we could build up to being official first. That way it's not so suspicious."

"Agreed. Have any ideas?"

"I have a date set," he said. "October 15th. That's the day I'll pretend to ask you out officially."

"So, we just have to play our parts, then. Make it look as realistic as possible, so everyone's convinced. Especially Lily."

He nodded. "Exactly."

I looked into the Entrance Hall, the warm light of the candles and torches grazing my face. He touched my elbow, gazing at me seriously.

"You don't have to do this, Cleo," he said. "I can always find another way. But if you're sure…then thank you. Really. This…means a lot to me."

I gave him a lopsided grin. "That's what friends are for, right?"

He smiled and nodded. "Right." He spit into his hand. "I solemnly swear to uphold my end of the deal, so long as you uphold yours."

I spit into my own palm. "And I solemnly swear I will do my part, just as I trust you'll do yours."

And then we shook hands, our deal sealed.

* * *

**Please review! I love hearing from y'all!**

**And so it begins...**

**Also, I stole the study hall concept from that one scene in _The Goblet of Fire _movie with Snape. Probably not canon, but I like the concept of it. **

**Next Chapter: _The Less I Know the Better_**

**xx**


	3. The Less I Know the Better

**Disclaimer: **_All rights go to JK Rowling. Anything you don't recognize is mine._

**Welcome back! Thanks for all the new favorites/follows, and thank you to my reviewers from last time. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**The Less I Know the Better**

"Cleo, get up. We're going to be late for breakfast."

I groaned, the sound muffled from my face still firmly planted in my pillow. Leigh nudged my hip with her hand, rocking me back and forth and causing me to groan again. I tried to swat her hand away, to no avail.

"Cleo, c'mon. I don't want all the bacon to be gone again because we stuck around waiting for your lazy arse."

At the mention of bacon and Leigh's extremely valid point, I grudgingly untangled myself from my sheets and sat up. Godric, everything was sore. I cracked my neck and rolled my shoulders, my joints creaking in protest. James had put us through another grueling practice the night before, and I knew I was going to hurt for days now. The man had a penchant for torture.

Leigh—satisfied that I no longer resembled a drooling corpse—moved off to the washroom, leaving me sitting on the edge of my bed. There was no sign of Renee, but I heard her boisterous laugh coming from the washroom, as well. I looked around the room blearily, seeing our fourth and final roommate, Dorcas Meadowes, dressing by her trunk. When she spotted me, I waved.

"Morning, Dorcas," I grumbled, still half-asleep.

She gave me a shy smile. "Morning, Cleo. Sleep well?"

I gave a noncommittal grunt. She smiled again, focusing her attention back on her tie, and that was it.

I liked Dorcas, I really did; she was sweet and loved helping others. She was a tad too timid for my tastes, but I was a tad too obnoxious for her own, which is why she usually preferred the company of the girls in the year above us, like Lily Evans. From the moment we set foot in our dormitory, Leigh, Renee, and I got on like three peas in a pod. Dorcas, try as we might, just couldn't fit in the pod with us. We were just too different. But at least we acknowledged it and accepted it.

With a last smile, Dorcas grabbed her bag and left the dormitory. Figuring I should get a move on, I shuffled into the washroom and joined Leigh and Renee at the sinks. I turned the faucet to cold and splashed water on my face, letting it reinvigorate me as Leigh and Renee discussed our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, a complete dud named Professor Ira Vandegrift.

As they chattered on about his complete inadequacy for teaching, I washed my face and brushed my teeth before slapping my hair into two knots on top of my head, too lazy to braid it this morning. Godric forbid I didn't have to worry about my hair. Unlike Leigh's wavy, light auburn hair and Renee's natural, honey-blonde curls, my dirty blonde hair was so frizzy and wild I had to put it up or else look like I'd been zapped by lightning.

"I love it when you do that with your hair," Leigh said, reaching up and squeezing one of my buns. She grinned at me in the mirror. "It's so cute. Right, Renee?"

Renee paused in the application of her mascara and glanced over. "You look like a gnome," she said to me.

I snorted. "I'm so glad I have such supportive friends."

Renee smiled, going back to her mascara while Leigh finished off her tie. I trudged back to my trunk and pulled on my black school robes, leaving my own tie undone—my private rebellion against the arcane ritual of school uniforms. Before, I'd done anything I could with my tie: wrapping it around my forehead, tying it on the end of my braid, wearing it like a bowtie, you name it. It drove McGonagall and my other professors mad, which was one of the reasons I did it. But it'd been my protest against conformity. My dad always used to tell me to go against the grain, be my own person and all that, and I'd taken it to heart. I'd toned down the obnoxiousness of my protest since Fourth Year, but to this day, I still refused to wear my tie properly. Even McGonagall had given up trying to correct me for it.

When we were ready, we grabbed our book bags and left the dormitory. Leigh shook her head at me when she passed, clucking her tongue at my loose tie, but she didn't try to fix it. That ship had sailed long ago.

We made our way to the Great Hall, chatting animatedly and joking around. We took our usual seats toward the end of the Gryffindor table, Leigh and Renee sitting across from me while I propped my leg up on the empty space of the bench beside me. I poured a cup of coffee and spooned some cream into it while Renee loaded hers with sugar cubes. (Her sweet tooth was insatiable, that one. She put me to shame, and I _loved _sweets.) Leigh dove for the bacon, piling her plate high and nearly weeping when she discovered it was still warm.

And so began our morning routine. Renee and I would sip our coffee and contemplate, and Leigh would berate us until we ate, insisting that coffee was not breakfast. We usually ignored her, but to appease her today, I choked down a few bites of a blueberry muffin as the owls arrived with the morning post.

Renee read her daily letter from her parents (being an only child, her parents constantly fretted over her while she was away at school) while Leigh paid the handsome brown owl that had landed at her elbow before taking that morning's copy of the_ Daily Prophet _from him. She disappeared behind the pages of the newspaper, leaving me to eat my muffin in silence. Letters from my own parents were rare. I didn't really mind, since they were always travelling for my dad's job, but sometimes I wished they'd write more. I didn't even know where they were right now. Sweden? Switzerland? If I was lucky, maybe I would get a postcard.

I took another sip from my coffee, nearly upending the cup when an unexpected voice said, "Budge over, lump."

James swatted my leg off the bench before plopping himself next to me—so close that his knee bumped my own under the table. I stared, bewildered, but he ignored my gaze, reaching instead for the plate of bacon in the center of the table.

"You done with this, Morello?" he asked Leigh, who had poked her head up from the newspaper and now stared at him in utter confusion. Even Renee looked up from her parents' letter, a puzzled frown on her face that morphed into a grimace when Sirius took up the place next to James, just as confused as the rest of us.

"Er…" Leigh looked between me and James helplessly. James still hovered over the plate of bacon, gazing at her expectantly. She gave him a jerky nod. "Yeah, I'm done. Go for it."

"Excellent." James didn't even put the bacon on a separate plate. He just took the entire platter and placed it in front of him, grabbing up several pieces. "Remus, Pete, don't just stand there; take a seat."

Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew—the other half of James and Sirius's friend group known collectively as the Marauders (which I refused to say aloud because I thought it was so dumb)—stood off to the side, uncertain. At James's order, though, Lupin slowly took the seat by Leigh, and Pettigrew eased himself beside Renee, glancing at her as if she would attack him at any moment.

Though we had mutual friends between James and me, and Renee and Sirius, I'd never interacted much with Lupin or Pettigrew. Lupin had always been more reserved than the boisterous James and Sirius, but Pettigrew just creeped me out with his watery blue eyes and face that resembled a rat's. I'd never understood why James kept him around, but he was fiercely protective of the small boy, so I'd stopped questioning him.

But this was just weird.

"Can I help you?" I asked James. He was stuffing his face with bacon, and I watched in disgust as he swallowed the large bite he'd taken with an audible gulp.

Our section of the table was awkwardly silent as everyone glanced between me and James. Renee and Sirius studiously avoided eye contact, which just made the whole thing stranger. What was James thinking?

He shrugged, running a hand through his jet-black hair. "Just came to see how my favorite Chaser was doing," he said casually. "Plus, your section had more bacon."

I exchanged a glance with Leigh and Renee. "Er, all right. Whatever you say."

He reached over and pinched a piece off my muffin. Under the table, his other hand pinched my knee. I opened my mouth, preparing to swat him, but he fixed me with a pointed stare.

_Oh._

I took a hasty gulp from my coffee. Right. We were supposed to build up our relationship, so it wouldn't be so shocking when we started "dating."

"You look nice today, Cleo," he said with a pleasant smile. "I like what you did with your hair."

"Thanks, James," I said. I shot Renee a moody look. "Renee said I reminded her of a gnome."

Sirius snorted into his pumpkin juice, glancing to Renee quickly before looking away. Renee half-smiled at the glance, her cheeks flushing pink. I resisted the urge to gag. Godric, they were gross. I just wanted to yell at them to get it over with and shag already.

"Well, I think it looks nice," James said. He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair that hadn't made it up behind my ear, his fingers lingering a bit longer than was casual.

Normally, I would've punched him for touching me, but instead I forced myself to smile like a shy little girl and repeat, "Thanks."

Leigh stared at me like I'd turned into a mountain troll. Renee caught my eye and mouthed _what the fuck? _I just shrugged and went back to my muffin.

The reason I hadn't confided in my two best friends was simple: they were terrible at keeping secrets. Every crush I'd ever had at Hogwarts had inevitably found out because Leigh and Renee were just so _obvious. _I've spent years begging them to be more discreet, but they just couldn't grasp the concept of it. Entrusting them with the secret of my scheme with James was asking for our cover to be blown. (Plus, I knew they would take the piss out of me forever if they knew.)

Breakfast passed slowly after that. No one seemed to want to initiate conversation, so we all just sat with our own thoughts, occasionally trading furtive glances with one another. James munched on, oblivious, while I pondered my next move. Flirting wasn't foreign territory to me. But flirting with James? That would take some getting used to. Especially when he smacked his lips like that, triggering my impulse to slap him. He knew how much I hated it when he did that.

When the warning bell tolled that classes would be starting soon, I stood with a sigh of relief. I turned, ready to flee the horribly awkward scene, but James tapped on my shoulder.

"Mind if I walk you to class?" he asked.

"Er, no," I said, acutely aware of everyone's eyes on us. "I have Charms with Flitwick, though. That's on the third floor. Don't you have Herbology out in the greenhouses this block?"

He shrugged. "Sprout loves me. She won't mind if I'm a few minutes late."

Merlin, he was persistent. I shrugged back. "Suit yourself." I bat my eyelashes for good measure. "I'd actually really like that."

He grinned at me. Behind us, I heard Pettigrew whisper, "What the _fuck _is going on?"

James just held out his arm to me. "Shall we?"

I gave him a deadpan look. He dropped his arm.

"Too thick?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth.

"More like overkill," I muttered back. "Can you at least try to act somewhat normal?"

He nodded. "Got it." He turned to his friends. "Save me a seat. I'll catch up to you."

They nodded dumbly, sharing an indecipherable look. I faced Leigh and Renee. They made no move to join us, but their expressions were the same: _we're talking about this later. _I gave them an encouraging nod, and then James whisked me out of the Hall.

We were crossing the Entrance Hall, heading for the grand marble staircase, when James physically ran into someone coming down the stairs.

"Oh, I'm so sorry—" the girl who'd barreled into him began saying before cutting off abruptly. "Potter? What are you doing?"

Lily Evans glared at him suspiciously. Even when she looked vaguely disgusted, she was still insanely pretty with her short, fiery red hair and almond-shaped green eyes. I glanced to James, expecting him to be making a dreamy face at the gorgeous Gryffindor girl he'd been in love with for the past three years, but instead he just gave her a polite smile.

"Evans," he said, his voice deep and smooth. He gestured to me. "I was just walking Cleo here to class."

Her emerald eyes shifted to me, curiosity blending with her suspicion. "Oh. Capaldi, right? You're one of Dorcas's roommates?"

"The one and only," I said, giving her a small wave.

She smiled at me, nodding, before turning back to James with a disapproving frown. "You realize we have Herbology in five minutes, yes?"

He nodded. "I'm aware."

She glared. "You'll be setting a bad example for Head Boy, being tardy like that."

"I think it's quite inspired," he said. "You know, proving to everyone that even if you're not perfect, you can still be a Head. Very motivational, in my opinion."

She opened her mouth to retort, but he linked his arm through my own and tugged me up the stairs.

"Sorry to cut our chat short, Evans, but arguing the finer points of tardiness would make Cleo and you late yourselves," he said, speaking over his shoulder. I looked back and saw Evans staring after us, her mouth still agape. James waved to her. "See you in class!"

When we disappeared up the stairs, James grinned down at me. "So, how was that?"

"Superbly conceited," I said. "It's no wonder she thinks you have a big head."

He frowned. "I meant Evans. Did she look jealous? Envious? Wishing she were you instead?"

I rolled my eyes. "I think she was just annoyed that you're intentionally missing class to walk me to my own when I'm perfectly capable of doing it by myself."

"Isn't it a chivalrous thing to do, though? Walking you to class?"

I sighed. "I mean, yes. And I s'pose it shows interest on your part."

"Then it's all good," he said. "This is what we wanted, right? The speculation, the rumors, all that."

"Yeah." I sighed again. "It's just…a lot weirder now that we're actually doing it."

He slowed his steps. We'd reached the second-floor corridor, and students still milled about, heading to class. They cast us inquisitive looks as they passed, but James ignored them, his serious gaze on me.

"If you're having doubts, I understand completely," he said. "We can call the whole thing off right here if you want. Just say the word."

"No, no." I shook my head. "I gave you my word. A favor for a favor. And I intend to stick by it. I'll see this thing through."

"Are you sure?" He put a hand on my shoulder, keeping his voice low so passersby couldn't hear him. "Don't lie, Cleo."

"I'm not lying," I said, refraining myself from brushing off his hand. "James, you know I'm the worst liar on the planet. I'm sure. I'm all in."

He searched my eyes for a moment before nodding. "All right. I believe you." He squeezed my shoulder. "You're a good mate, Cleo, y'know that?"

I flicked his chin. "Of course, I know. I'm awesome."

He snorted. "And Evans thinks _I'm _arrogant."

I grinned. "You are. Now, c'mon; I have Charms to get to."

We fell into step as we walked through the corridor in amiable silence. James—ever uncomfortable without opening his mouth for more than a minute—spoke up as we made our way to the third floor.

"That's a great nickname for you, by the way," he said. I shot him a questioning look and he smirked. "Gnome."

I snorted. "Better than yours. What is it? The one your friends always call you. Prawns?"

He looked scandalized. "It's _Prongs, _Gnome."

"That's even dumber."

"You wouldn't think so if you knew the meaning behind it," he said, sniffing.

"So, can I know?"

"No. It's classified."

"Then I don't care."

We reached the third-floor corridor and stopped outside the Charms classroom. When he made no move to leave, I raised a brow at him. "What? You planning on coming to class with me, too?

He made a face. "No, thanks. I'd rather not sit through another Sixth Year Charms lesson. I have important matters to tend to."

"Like going to Herbology, right?" When he didn't answer, my brows rose higher. "_James_. Like what?"

"None of your business," he replied with an infuriating smirk. "Now, run along; I don't want to be late meeting Sirius."

I gaped. "You're skiving with _Black_? No fair! Take me with!"

"No way, Gnome." He poked my nose. I batted his hand way. "You have a whole year to pass, remember? No skiving for you."

I scowled. "Stop calling me Gnome, _Prawns_."

"I'd punch you for that, but that rather puts a whole damper on our plan," he said. "Would you like to hear it?"

I shook my head. "The less I know the better. I'm sure you have some undoubtedly asinine gesture planned that'll make me regret agreeing to this as soon as I find out about it."

"Asinine?" he repeated, pulling a face. "Good grief, Gnome, I didn't know you were a walking thesaurus."

"Shut up, Prawns."

He pouted. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just call me that and walk away now. Have fun in class."

He winked and strutted down the corridor, leaving me to stare after him, miffed.

"Screw you, Potter!" I called after his retreating back.

He raised a hand without turning around. "Love you too, my fickle little Gnome!"

Well, that was that. My new challenge besides convincing the whole school that James Potter and I were dating was to not kill the bloke before the year was up.

I had a feeling it would be a lot easier said than done.

* * *

**Please review! I love hearing your thoughts!**

**Next Chapter: _Dirty Little Secret_**

**xx**


	4. Dirty Little Secret

**Disclaimer: **_All rights go to JK Rowling. Anything you don't recognize is mine._

**Sorry for the short (and late) chapter, but with a new semester to look forward to, I've been swamped. Hopefully this will help me get back in the groove of things, though.**

**Thanks for all the new favorites/follows (I can't believe we're almost at 100 after only 3 chapters!), and thank you to those who reviewed!**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**Dirty Little Secret**

Each day was more bizarre than the last.

As the weeks wore on and October 15th approached, I found myself drowning in James Potter.

After so many years of obsessively hounding Lily Evans, I should've known that subtlety was not his strong suit. But it seemed that every time I turned around, James was there: holding doors for me, walking me to class, offering to carry my books (which I always refused, as I was more than capable of doing it myself, thank you very much). I was beginning to wonder if he'd somehow put a Tracking Spell on me without my knowledge. I meant it when I said he was _always there._

Leigh and Renee were baffled. They waited a week after James and his friends began sitting with us at meals in the Great Hall to corner me, and they did not hold back.

As we'd been leaving for breakfast one morning, I'd opened the door to our dormitory only for Renee to press her hand against it and slam it shut again, the wood trembling in its frame.

"Not so fast," she'd said. Her green eyes scanned me from head to toe, her lips pursed. "We're not going anywhere until you tell us _what_, exactly, is up with you and Potter."

"Yeah," Leigh chimed in, crossing her arms. "What gives? You two are practically attached at the hip now!"

I'd feigned innocence. "What do you mean? We've always been mates. It's not abnormal for us to hang out."

Renee rolled her eyes. "Either you're incredibly thick, or something's up between you two." She narrowed her gaze, keeping her palm flat against the door. "Are you shagging him?"

I didn't have to fake my disgust at that question. "Godric, no. I'd rather let Pervy Herbie from Ravenclaw give me a disease than let James in my pants." I pondered for a moment. "All right, maybe I wouldn't, but you get what I mean."

"But he's been spending loads of time with you lately," Leigh said.

"Because that's what friends _do_," I retorted. "I spend loads of time with you two already."

"It's _different_," she insisted. "Potter doesn't even look at Evans anymore! D'you know how _strange _that is? The whole school's been talking about it."

I'd looked between Renee's skeptical gaze and Leigh's suspicious one before sighing. I hated to lie to them, but I'd already determined that the less people who knew, the less likely this whole fake-dating thing would blow up in my face.

"James and I are just friends," I'd said firmly. I'd then carefully arranged my features into something more wistful. "I mean, if he _did _ask me out, I guess I wouldn't be _totally _opposed…"

Leigh squeaked. "You _fancy _him!"

I'd shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. We'll see."

Leigh had seemed utterly entranced at the prospect, but Renee had still looked dubious. I had to throw her off the scent, then.

"And what about you and High Lord Black?" I'd asked her, propping my shoulder against the door and smirking at her. "Still trying to see other people?"

Her face had tightened. "Yes."

"And how's that working out for you?"

She'd finally removed her hand from the door and opened it. "Walk before I shove you down the stairs."

"So sensitive. Should I ask Black to put you in a better mood? ACK!"

And the conversation was over after Renee had, indeed, shoved me down the girls' staircase. That had been two weeks ago, and the girls hadn't brought it up since.

It was now the first week of October, which meant that there was only one more week before James "officially" asked me out. He'd upped the ante so much in the meantime that it was becoming a struggle to simply smile at him without wanting to wallop him across the face, especially since he now used our Quidditch time as an excuse to "flirt" endlessly with me.

Our first Quidditch practice of October fell on the 8th—exactly one week before the fated day. James seemed to know this, as well, for he winked at me when we all lined up on the field, facing him for that day's pep talk and what plays we'd be working on during the practice.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have some exciting news to share with you before we kick off tonight's practice," he said. He puffed out his chest importantly, his hands on his hips.

"What's the news?" Sirius Black said. "You're finally admitting to wearing girls' underwear?"

The rest of the team snickered. Even I cracked a smile at the sheer look of offense on James's face.

"Congratulations, Pads, for earning yourself one-hundred push-ups while the rest of us are flying," James said. He grinned when his best mate swore and flipped him off. He turned back to the rest of us, the evening sun glinting off the goggles he wore in lieu of his glasses. They rested on his forehead, just under his hairline, jutting the messy black strands vertically and giving him the appearance of wearing an absurd crown. He caught my gaze and winked again. I rolled my eyes. "Now. I received this news from McGonagall herself. This morning, she informed me that there will be a professional Quidditch scout coming to Hogwarts in the summer to watch the final match."

My eyebrows shot up. A ripple of murmurs and whistles passed through my teammates. Even Sirius looked impressed.

James nodded. "That's right. It's a big deal. Which means that our team better be in the final matchup. And even more, that we _win_."

We nodded our assent. His eyes swept over us. "So, with that in mind, let's get to work. What are we?"

"Gryffindors!" we replied, with much more enthusiasm than normal.

He clapped his hands together. "Mount up. Spend five minutes flying to warm up." He smirked at Sirius. "You can start those push-ups now."

Sirius grumbled something unflattering as he lowered himself to the grass while the rest of us mounted our brooms. I was just about to kick off the ground when James put his hand on my broomstick with a wry grin. "Not you, Cupcake."

He said it just loud enough that all our teammates gave us weird looks as they took to the sky. I thought I saw Mikey McKinnon mime vomiting as he flew overhead, but James's hand kept my broom and me from going after the little punk.

Once everyone was out of earshot, I gave him a scathing look. _"Cupcake?"_

"Pet names are cute," he said, shrugging. "It's a sign of adoration on my behalf."

I pried his fingers from my broomstick. "Merlin, if I knew you were going to be this disgusting, I never would've agreed to your idiotic plan." I shook my head, grumbling under my breath as I continued picking his fingers off my broom. Damn him and his hand strength. "_Cupcake, _of all things…honestly…"

He grinned. "Would you prefer Love Muffin?"

"I think I'd prefer death." I succeeded in removing his fingers and swatted his hand away. "What am I still doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you," he said. "See how things were going."

With his hand gone, my broom hovered a few feet off the ground. I still straddled it, my toes barely brushing the cold, brittle grass. With the sun setting and the night closing in, it was becoming much colder. I needed to fly before I started freezing to my broom.

"Can't it wait until after practice?" I sighed. "If a scout really is coming next term, then we should get to work instead of chatting."

"Are you questioning your Captain's orders?" he said, hazel eyes twinkling. "I expected better from you, Capaldi."

"James," I said, my voice laced with warning. "Either spit it out or let me fly."

"All right, all right, calm down," he said. "I was just wondering how you think our plan is going."

I sighed again and leaned forward, draping my forearms across my broom. The wood hummed beneath me, ready for takeoff. Though my Shooting Star was steadily going out of fashion among the professional Quidditch players, I was loath to get a new one, despite my dad's offers. It was my first broom, my baby, the wood notched with scratches and carvings where I'd scraped out my initials and little stars and flowers. My dad had nearly fainted when he saw what I'd done, blaspheming my broom in such a way, but I liked it. It was just…me.

"It's going, all right?" I said. "Leigh even said a couple weeks ago that the whole school's been talking about us." I rolled my eyes. "Kind of hard for no one to notice when you've been so nauseatingly persistent these last weeks."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

I arched an eyebrow at him. "You've been following me around like a lost puppy." I made my voice deeper and rougher to imitate him. "'Cleo, let me get that for you! Cleo, you look stunning today! Cleo, can I hold that for you? Cleo, can I feed you grapes and wipe your arse too while I'm at it?'" I fixed him with a pointed glare. "It's annoying."

"Well, how else am I supposed to show I'm interested in you?" he asked, petulant.

"By treating me normally?" I said. "Stop acting like you worship the very ground I walk on."

He gazed out to the pitch, thoughtful. Above us, our teammates flew idly, warming up. Off to our right, Sirius still puffed away at his push-ups, muttering under his breath.

"My mum always told me to treat a girl special," James said, looking back to me. "She said women love a gentleman."

I rested my chin on my broom. "You can still be a gentleman without appearing at my side every three seconds." I frowned. "How do you always find me, anyway? Did you memorize my schedule or something?"

He waved me off. "So, what should I do, then? Ignore you until the 15th?"

"Just treat me like you normally would," I said. "Y'know, minus calling me 'Gnome' and such."

"But it's such a lovely nickname."

I rolled my eyes. "And no stalking me. It's fine if you walk me to class every once in a while, but following me like a loyal lapdog is a bit much."

He frowned. "Fine, fine. Noted. How do I ask you out, then?"

"You just ask." I raised my brows at him when he made a face. "What?"

"That's it?" He seemed genuinely shocked. "No grand gesture? No audience? Nothing?"

"If you even _think _about asking me out publicly and humiliating me in front of the entire school, I'm flying you to the highest goalpost and then dropping you. Without a wand."

"So murderous." He knelt down until he was eye-level with me and leaned in close. It was disconcerting, being this near to him. I could count every individual lash if I wanted. I was about to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, but he wrapped his hand around the top of my broom and tugged it closer until our noses were almost touching. He grinned. I stared, bewildered, as he dropped his voice low and said, "I love it when you talk violently to me."

Was this buffoon going to kiss me? No way. Too far. I curled my right hand into a fist, but before I could deck him for invading my personal space, a throat cleared awkwardly from our sides.

Sirius looked back and forth between us as if we were alien creatures. In any other circumstance, I would've laughed at how uncomfortable the bloke looked, but I was still trying to process what was happening.

"Er…" Sirius kept staring. "Am I…interrupting something?"

James straightened, not looking embarrassed or bothered in the slightest. I remained stuck to my broom, my face heating to a degree I was sure wasn't healthy. Oh Godric, please tell me I wasn't _blushing. _

"Not at all," James said easily. "I was just teaching Cleo some proper broom-handling skills, if you know what I mean."

I choked. Sirius glanced to me, vaguely disgusted. James just grinned. "Done with your punishment, Padfoot? Good. Up you get. We're starting with the Polansky play today."

"Right." Sirius nodded, dazed. "I'll just, er, leave you to it."

He turned and mounted his broom, shooting into the darkening sky like he couldn't get away from us fast enough. James turned back to me and waggled his eyebrows.

"So, how was that?" he asked. I didn't answer. "If you keep your mouth open any longer then you'll start swallowing flies, Clee."

"What the hell was that?" I rasped.

"That, my dear Gnome," he said, smiling, "was flirting. A spectacle for the masses, if you will."

"You could've _warned _me," I said. My shock was subsiding, but I was still blindsided.

"True, but that would've ruined all the fun." He shrugged. "Plus, I don't get to see you blush often. It's quite a charming look on you."

He reached out to poke my red cheek. I slapped his hand away. He laughed. "C'mon, Cleo. If we want our plan to work, we have to sell it. That's what you said."

"I don't like looking like a fool," I snapped. "We're in this together, James. And _broom-handling skills_? Really?"

"Okay, that one was too far," he said. "But did you see the look on Sirius's face? Totally worth it."

I sat up straight on my broomstick, glowering at him. He sighed.

"All right, I'm sorry, Clee. I just wanted your reaction to be authentic."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He scratched under his goggles. Two red rings had formed on his forehead from where they'd been sitting for the last twenty minutes.

"You've clammed up on me," he said. He gestured to me. "Ever since we agreed to this thing, it's like you shut me out or something. Your guard's up." He frowned. "If it's because you're uncomfortable with the whole dating thing, I get it. I can stop and find another way. I don't want you to be miserable if that's all this is gonna bring."

"No, it's not that," I said, shaking my head. "I just… I dunno. I've never done this before. The whole fake-flirting thing… It's new to me, okay? And I guess I've never been great at acting." I crossed my arms. "Maybe you're right about the authenticity thing. It does produce a more…real reaction." I groaned. "I can't believe I just said you were right about something."

He laughed.

"I'll be sure to mark this day in my calendar," he said, grinning. "But if you're one-hundred percent okay with this, Cleo, then I'd like to try it out."

"Yeah. One-hundred percent." I suddenly smiled, mischievous. "As long as you allow me the same courtesy."

He cocked a brow. "If you think you can handle it, Capaldi, then by all means." He waved a hand. "Go for it."

"Brilliant." I nudged my broom forward until we were nose-to-nose again. I flicked his chin. "Game on, Potter."

And without waiting for his reply, I kicked off the ground and soared into the velvet sky.

* * *

**Please review! I love hearing your thoughts!**

**Cleo and James have stepped up their game and everyone's wondering what the hell is going on with those two. How will they react once Cleo and James start "dating"? And how will James ask Cleo out? **

**Next Chapter: _Girlfriend_**

**xx**


	5. Girlfriend

**Disclaimer: **_All rights go to JK Rowling. Anything you don't recognize is mine._

**So, sorry for vanishing for a few months lol. Life has a wonderful way of creating roadblocks. But I'm back and bear with me an extra long chapter to make up for the wait!**

**Thanks to everyone for sticking around!**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**Girlfriend**

When I walked into Potions and saw the scroll on my desk tied with that dreaded purple ribbon, I turned right back around and attempted to leave until Leigh and Renee each grabbed one of my arms.

"Let me go!" I wrestled against their grips, but the two girls must've been eating extra protein at meals, for I couldn't get away. They dragged me across the dungeon classroom, heedless to my protests. "I don't want that stupid invitation!"

"Too bad," Renee said, shoving me into my seat. When I squirmed, she raised her wand. "Do I need to Immobilize you? Because I will."

"Why are you doing this to me?" I complained.

"It's just an invitation, Cleo." Leigh rolled her eyes as she took the seat across from me at the table we'd sat at for the past five years. "I don't know why you get so worked up about it every time."

I eyed the scroll in front of me in disgust. "It's not just an invitation; it's a scarlet letter to single me out."

"Godric, you're so dramatic," Renee said, taking the seat next to me when I made no more moves to bolt from the room. "Just say no to Slughorn and move on."

"Sluggy's persistent," I said, sweeping the scroll into my bag. I was satisfied when it crunched against one of my spellbooks. "He'll keep hounding me to come to his stupid Slug Club parties for the next week, and I've run out of excuses at this point."

Leigh and Renee shared a long-suffering, exasperated look.

"Then say yes and go," Leigh said. "The Slug Club is all about connections, Cleo. You told us that yourself. Didn't your dad used to be a member? And look where he is now."

I scowled. "I got it, thanks."

Leigh shrugged, thankfully sensing that I wanted the subject dropped. Beside me, Renee pulled out her parchment, quill, and inkpot. "Hey, what's the date today?"

"October 15th," I said, then froze.

"Thanks," Renee said, oblivious to my sudden tension as she scribbled the date on her parchment. Leigh was too busy pulling out her own supplies to notice me as I put my head in my hands and mouthed _Shit! _

I couldn't believe it. How had the weeks gone by so quickly? It seemed like just yesterday I'd agreed to go out with James as a ploy to make Lily Evans jealous. And now it was the 15th—the day James was supposed to "officially" ask me out.

I still had no idea how he was planning to do it, and that was the most horrifying thought of all. I just hoped he would listen to me and not do anything extremely embarrassing or cringy. But he _was _James Potter. And James Potter played by his own rules.

I also hoped our plan worked. I mean, we'd spent weeks building our so-called relationship up. It had to be believable by now, or what was the point? And there was also the small matter of getting Lily Evans to actually like him back, which was easier said than done, considering she used to hate James's guts.

On the bright side, even if all went wrong, I still got James to help me with a month's worth of homework. Maybe that wouldn't be a bright side for him, but it certainly was for me.

I pulled out my own notes and quill just as Professor Slughorn waddled into the classroom, squeezing his wide girth in the space between his desk and the blackboard. I studiously avoided eye contact with the robust Potions teacher as he surveyed the classroom with his large, pale green eyes.

"Afternoon, afternoon," he tittered. "I trust you all had a good week and are looking forward to the weekend? Especially those of you I've invited to my dinner party tomorrow evening?"

There were some grumbles from the class. I kept my head down, painstakingly tracing over the letters of my name with my quill when his gaze landed on me. He cleared his throat.

"Very well. Let's move on with today's lesson, shall we? If you'll take out your copies of _Advanced Potion-Making _and open them to page eighty-two…"

I clocked out as soon as I opened my book and saw the title for Draught of Peace. How utterly boring. Probably useful, but that's what drugs were for.

Professor Slughorn launched into a long-winded monologue about the history and usage of the potion, stating that today was only an introduction to it. Wonderful. I checked my watch and groaned silently. Two hours of straight lecture? Might as well kill myself now and get it all over with.

At least I wasn't the only one not paying attention. Renee rolled her quill on the table, her eyes glazed, while Leigh put her head down and promptly went to sleep, the beefy Hufflepuff sat in front of her blocking Slughorn's view of her. Lucky bird.

As the lesson went on, I began doodling on my parchment for lack of anything better. When not even sketches of flowers or hands did the trick, I flipped the parchment over and started thinking of Quidditch plays to bring up with James. I mean, there was a literal _scout _coming to Hogwarts to watch the final match. If they were impressed enough, they might sign someone on the spot to go play professional in the league. Gryffindor _had _to be in that game. And we _had _to win. I would accept nothing less.

I was in the middle of working through a complicated Chaser play when the door to the classroom opened, startling everyone out of their stupors. I turned in my seat and frowned when James walked in, a scroll in his hand.

"James, m'boy!" Slughorn boomed when he saw the older Gryffindor. "I was just going over the Draught of Peace with my Sixth Years here." He turned to the class at large. "Mr. Potter here is the son of an old colleague of mine—you may have heard of him? Fleamont Potter? He created a bestselling line of hair potions—Sleakeazy's, you know." He winked at James. "What can I do for you, m'boy?"

James grinned, unruffled by the professor's praise. I rolled my eyes. "My father told me to say hello from him, by the way," he said. He wagged the scroll in his hand. "And Professor McGonagall wanted this delivered to you, sir. I volunteered to go for her." He looked over his shoulder and winked at me once he'd passed the scroll to Slughorn. "All right, Cleo?"

I glared at him when the whole class stared at me. "Just fine, James, thanks."

Professor Slughorn looked up from McGonagall's scroll, distracted. "James, m'boy, I'd almost forgotten you knew Miss Capaldi!" He beamed at me. "Only natural…both Gryffindors, both Quidditch players, yes…"

James shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, shooting Slughorn another charming grin. "Right on the mark, Professor. Cleo's my star player." I sank lower in my seat, wishing the floor would swallow me whole when people kept staring. Even Leigh had woken up, glancing between me and James with groggy eyes. "Quite a whiz-popper, though—if she gives you any trouble, just say the word." He tapped the Head Boy badge on his robes. "I'd be happy to whip her back into shape."

The class tittered, shooting me furtive looks. I focused my gaze on the back of James's head and attempted to melt his brain into goo.

Professor Slughorn chuckled, setting down McGonagall's note. "Not to worry, m'boy—Miss Capaldi is a fine student. Though if you could convince her to come to my dinner party tomorrow…"

I stared at James, horrified. He turned and grinned at me. I shook my head frantically when Slughorn wasn't looking, but James's smile only widened, becoming predatory.

"No problem with that, sir," he said. "Cleo's already coming. She's my date."

Someone coughed loudly in the sudden silence. I was now so low in my seat I could barely see over the table. Damn James Potter. Damn him to hell!

Professor Slughorn clapped his hands together. "Well, that's wonderful news! Thank you, James, m'boy—you can let Minerva know that I've received her request and shall answer her later today. You may go back to class now."

James nodded and headed toward the door, his hands still in his pockets. When he reached my seat, he checked to make sure Slughorn wasn't looking before leaning down to where I was still half-crouched under the table.

"See you later, Gnome," he whispered.

"I'll kill you," I swore.

He chuckled. "You can try."

"Shut up, Prawns."

"Love you, too, Gnome."

He avoided the kick I aimed at his shins and walked out, laughing all the way.

* * *

"When were you going to tell us James asked you to be his date to Slughorn's party?"

Leigh slammed her books on the table in the Great Hall, nearly upending a golden tureen of gravy as she took the seat across from me with Renee. I paused, a forkful of mashed potatoes halfway to my mouth, though I sighed and put it down when Leigh crossed her arms. _"Explain."_

"He didn't even ask me," I said, disgruntled. "He just, _announced _it. So, I technically found out at the same time you two did."

Renee leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table. She raked me over with critical eyes. "You're hiding something, Cleo." Her gaze narrowed. "And if you won't spill it, then I'm going to find out what it is myself."

I took a sip from my pumpkin juice to avoid her frankly creepy gaze. "I'm not hiding anything."

"Except for a deeply-rooted desire to shag James Potter!" Leigh snapped.

I wish I could tell her just how far off she was with that statement. _Me? _Shag _James Potter? _The thought alone was enough to make me hurl into the gravy tureen. I just rolled my eyes.

"Even if I _did _want to shag James, what's the problem?" I said. "There's plenty of worse blokes I could go for."

Leigh spluttered. "I know that! But in case you've forgotten, he's best mates with Sirius Black. And we all know what _he's _like."

She cast a pointed look to Renee. Renee scowled. "Oi, this is about Cleo, not me."

"They're both too arrogant for their own good," Leigh said. "Let someone else have them."

"Have who?"

James slid onto the bench beside me, with Sirius, Lupin, and Pettigrew perpetually in tow. Pettigrew sat next to Renee with a tentative smile that she didn't return while Lupin settled beside Leigh, glancing between the auburn-haired girl and me curiously. Sirius sat next to James and ignored us all in favor of the platter of sausages before him.

"No one," I said to James. I shoved my mashed potatoes in my mouth before he could press me further.

He shrugged. "All right, then, whatever you say."

I glared at Leigh and Renee as he made a plate, daring them to say something, but the two girls were now focused on their own meals. With a sigh of relief, I turned back to James. "How was your day?"

He shrugged again. "Boring." He took a bite of smothered steak and spoke around it. "Moony had quite an interesting day, though, eh?"

He waggled his eyebrows at Lupin, who grimaced when all eyes turned to him.

"It was hardly noteworthy," he said uncomfortably.

"What happened?" I asked.

James gestured to Lupin with his fork. "Go on; tell them."

Lupin rolled his eyes. "Bethany Schumacher asked me to the next Hogsmeade trip, that's all."

"From Hufflepuff?" Leigh demanded, whirling on him.

Lupin stared, shrinking back slightly from the fire in her gaze. "Er, yeah?"

"Well, you dodged a jinx with that one," she said, stabbing at her green beans. "Awful human being—you know she plagiarized my essay on the healing properties of Buggered Eyestalks last year? I spent _weeks _studying that plant, and she swooped in at the last second and tried to claim the research as _hers!_" Leigh scoffed. "The _nerve _of that witch!"

Lupin blinked. "Wait. That essay…was yours?"

"Yes," Leigh snapped, "and don't let _Bethany _tell you differently."

"I read that essay," he said. "Not Bethany's version, but yours. It was…quite brilliant."

Leigh discontinued her assault on her green beans and looked up to him, confused. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. That paragraph about combining the plant's properties through magical and Muggle techniques to yield maximum results was fascinating—I never thought of it that way…"

The rest of us ate in silence while Leigh and Lupin debated the various somethings of what's-its-name, until Renee finally stood up with a vaguely disgusted expression.

"You're both nerds," she said to them before walking away, heading back to Gryffindor Tower.

After a moment, Sirius got up and followed her out. I rose from my seat, glaring after him, but James grabbed my sleeve and shook his head.

"Best let them work it out on their own," he said.

I threw him a glance. "He needs to work out his own issues first."

He grinned slightly. "I won't argue with that."

We were spared from having to tune back into the _Leigh and Lupin Show_ when Lily Evans herself appeared at James's elbow holding several pieces of parchment.

"Potter," she said with a tight smile. Her features softened when she saw me sitting next to him. "Oh, hello, Cleo. How are you?"

"Good, thanks," I said politely. "You?"

"Tired," she said. "Head Girl duties and Seventh Year are hardly fun." She turned back to James. "Speaking of, here's our schedule for rounds this next week."

She handed him one of the parchment slips, her eye twitching when he crumpled it up and shoved it in his robes. "Got it. Thanks, Evans."

She breathed deeply through her perfect button nose before turning back to me. "Will you be attending Professor Slughorn's dinner party tomorrow, Cleo?"

"Unfortunately," I grumbled, shooting James an ugly look. I was utterly bewildered, though; since when did Lily Evans talk to me?

James threw a casual arm around my shoulders. Lily's eyes followed the movement closely before they flicked back to James's face.

"Actually," he said, "Cleo here is my date. You know, since she's my girlfriend and all."

"Oh." Lily's face remained pleasant, but something at the corners of her eyes creased. I fought to keep my expression neutral after James's bombshell, but she just said, "How wonderful. Well, I trust you two will have fun. I'll see you there."

James sent her off with a cheeky wave. "See you, Evans!"

She cast us one more confused look before she hurried out of the Great Hall, her red hair bouncing on her shoulders. James turned back to me, his arm still draped around my neck and tugging on my braid.

"And _that, _little Gnome," he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously, "is how we win this game."

His words reminded me of our Quidditch practice last week, and our agreement to up the ante with some flirting. _"Game on, Potter."_

I took my finger and ran it down his chest, stopping just over his heart. His eyebrows shot up to his hairline as I smiled and leaned in close.

"You owe me big time for this stupid party, Prawns," I hissed in his ear, keeping that sultry smile on my face as I stabbed my finger into his chest. He shifted in his seat. _"And _for that little stunt you just pulled."

He grinned and tugged on the end of my braid. "Buy you whatever you want at Honeydukes?"

I dug my finger in deeper. "And a butterbeer at Broomsticks."

He took my braid and smoothed it over my shoulder, ignoring all the eyes that had turned to us upon our rather public display of affection. "Done."

I stood up and collected my things. Across the table, Leigh hastily did the same, no doubt waiting to pounce on me with questions now.

"See you tomorrow," I said to James.

He winked at me. "Wear something nice."

As I walked out of the Hall, Leigh rushing in my wake, I attributed the warmth in my face to the dozens of eyes upon me instead of the way James had looked at me within that brief moment—like our game was genuinely exciting him.

Shaking off that absurd thought, I marched on, ignoring the sudden urge to take a cold shower.

* * *

My heavy boots clunked against the stone floors as I made my way to Professor Slughorn's dungeon office, his dinner invitation gripped tightly in my hand in case any teacher or Prefect decided to stop me for being out of my common room so late. Renee had offered to lend me a pair of her good heels for the party to match my outfit, but I'd declined—the last thing I needed was a sprained ankle. Slughorn's was already torture enough.

I tried not to feel as if I was walking to the gallows; after all, it was just a stupid dinner party. I'd have to sit there and simper while everyone else and Slughorn circle-jerked to their own self-congratulation, but it was one evening. I could do this.

The corridors were mostly empty as I passed through them; I nodded politely to the Fat Friar as he drifted in the opposite direction, and averted my eyes when I saw the Grey Lady gazing forlornly out a window, but the two ghosts were the only souls I ran into.

I smoothed down my robes as the dungeons came closer. I'd chosen my only nice ones—a deep midnight blue with a stitched lace bodice. A bit out of style now, perhaps, but they'd belonged to my grandmother when she was my age and went to Hogwarts. No jewelry, minimal makeup, and Leigh had taken my simple braid and turned it into art—framing my face with a few chunks of ashy blonde hair that she'd curled with her wand while the braid itself fishtailed over my shoulder, coming to rest in the middle of my back. I much would have preferred trousers and trainers, but I was satisfied with the end result of my formality tonight, for this was all it was—a formality.

James had told me he would meet me at the entrance to the dungeons, and there he was when I arrived, dressed in black robes and shiny black shoes. It looked like he'd tried to comb his hair, but the effort had been futile, since it still stuck out in every direction and refused to lay flat.

"You clean up nice," I said in lieu of greeting him. I smirked. "Didn't your dad invent a hair potion that could help with…?" I gestured to his hair.

He reached up and attempted to flatten his hair again, frowning. "Don't be rude. I'm sensitive."

I rolled my eyes. "You're not sensitive about anything."

He grinned. "Because I'm also amazing." His eyes traveled over me, and for some reason, it made me nervous. I shifted on my feet. "I'm impressed, Gnome; I didn't know there was an actual woman hidden underneath all that frizz and glowering."

"I don't _glower." _I scowled. "That's Black's thing."

"Y'know, you two are remarkably alike sometimes," he said. "It's a shame you both just can't see it."

"Can we not talk about Sirius Black? Just hearing his name makes me want to punch something."

"Fine, fine." James offered me his arm. "Shall we?"

"Let's just get this over with," I grumbled, taking his arm and ignoring the amount of muscle I felt there. Godric, what was wrong with me? It's not like I didn't know James was fit; we've been on the same team for years, and it was hard not to notice from the amount of times I'd seen him shirtless in practice and the changing rooms. Maybe I was coming down with the flu or something; it would explain why my head has been in the clouds so much lately.

Soft, soothing string music emanated from Slughorn's office as we descended the staircase into the dungeons, and though the music reminded me of stiff, uncomfortable dinners with my parents, it was quite lovely. We entered Slughorn's office and discovered that it had been completely transformed into a small ballroom, with a slab of hardwood dedicated to dancing, while house-elves flitted between the guests, laden with trays of drinks and decadent foods. Where Slughorn's desk usually sat was now a large, circular table decorated with a fine cream-colored tablecloth and shining silver plates and cutlery. He'd gone above and beyond, it seemed, which only added to my discomfort.

"Wine?" James asked me as a house-elf approached. At my dubious look, he grinned. "It's elf-wine; the alcohol content is so low that it's barely there."

"Fine." I realized I still clutched his arm and quickly let go. I didn't need him to be my crutch to get through this. I pointed to another tray. "Wanna try one of those cream puff things?"

He nodded, too busy getting the wine, so I gestured for the house-elf with the cream puff tray. I grabbed two wrapped in glittery gold paper, and James and I exchanged glasses and puffs.

"Well, cheers," he said, raising his wineglass. "To our official debut as a couple."

Though I wanted to roll my eyes, that stupid smirk of his—the one that made his eyes crinkle in the corners and made a dimple appear in his chin—got the better of me. I smiled as we clinked glasses and said, "Cheers."

We drank, and when I was finished, I took a bite of the cream puff.

"Oh, _Merlin," _I said around a mouthful of cream. "James, you _have _to try this. It's _divine._"

He chuckled at my blissful expression. "Careful, Clee; you sound like you need a change of pants."

"Shut up and try it," I said, shoving the cream puff in his face. He chuckled again and took a bite, his face instantly morphing into wonder.

"Damn," he said. "You're right. This is…heavenly. Wow." He polished it off in one more bite and shook his head. "That was one of the best things I've eaten in my life."

I nodded, too absorbed in savoring my last bite to say anything. James rolled his eyes at me. "Could you be any more embarrassing, Cleo?" He pointed to my mouth. "You're getting it everywhere. Here."

I jerked away when he reached for me, but he gave me an exasperated look. "You have cream all over your face, Gnome." And before I could respond, he swiped his thumb over the corner of my mouth, removing the glob of cream that had stuck there. He licked the cream off his thumb, his eyes twinkling in amusement, and for some reason, I had to turn away and take a hasty gulp of wine.

"So, what now?" I asked, my eyes scanning the room. There were a dozen or so people there—fellow students, though I didn't recognize any of them. These were the elites of Hogwarts, the people I'd vowed to stay away from since I stepped foot in the castle when I was eleven. My eyes snagged on someone entering the room, and I saw Lily Evans, wearing a mauve dress and petite heels that made her look more beautiful than ever. I glanced to James, who had followed my gaze and now looked like a man being slowly tortured over a roaring fire. I rolled my eyes. "Go say hi."

"What?" He didn't take his eyes off Lily as she accepted a glass of wine and greeted someone—a Hufflepuff, I think. Maybe a Seventh Year.

I nudged his shoulder with my own. "Evans. Say hello. Stop staring at her like a serial killer."

"Right." He nodded, dazed. "Will you be all right?"

"You're not my babysitter, James," I said, and he nodded again.

"Okay. I'll be back," he said and made a beeline toward Lily. I shook my head and wondered if I shouldn't go after him in case he said something stupid. No, that wouldn't be fair. James wasn't my babysitter, and I certainly was not his.

I took my wine and wandered around the room, sticking to the edges of the crowd. Slughorn was there, always in the middle, the center of attention. He grazed on the crystalized pineapple he loved so much and became louder and more boisterous with each glass of brandy he consumed, booming his praises and crowing about his famous connections and former students for anyone who would listen. Though I had my problems with Slughorn, I didn't hate him; I would probably be the same way if I was ever in his shoes. At one point, I saw James and Lily chatting with him, and I began to think I could actually make it through this thing without notice until Slughorn bellowed, "Ah, yes! Miss Capaldi! She's here tonight, isn't she, James, m'boy? Your date, correct?"

At Slughorn's voice, I froze on the outskirts of the crowd that had gathered around the Potions professor. However, heads swiveled in my direction, and Slughorn's watery gaze finally found me.

"Cleona!" he said, beckoning me over. "Here, dear, come here! I never took you for a shy one."

Shit. I approached Slughorn warily, smiling awkwardly as everyone stared. Did he really have to use my first name like that? Just Cleo was fine. But I guess he wanted everyone to think that he and I were old friends. Great.

"Professor Slughorn," I said politely. Beside him, James and Lily watched me curiously. "Wonderful party. And the cream puffs are to die for."

He laughed and it echoed around the room. "Yes, well, I'm just glad that James here wrangled you into finally coming!" He turned to the crowd of students watching. "Did you all know that Miss Capaldi here is the daughter of _the _Grayson Capaldi? Oh, yes, the very Chaser for the Appleby Arrows! One of the most talented students I've ever had the pleasure to teach!"

I stood, stiff, as he went on.

"And your mother—ah, yes, Meridia. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant! A bright witch, indeed. Tell me, what is she doing these days while your father plays?"

_Sleeps her way across the continent, _I wanted to retort. _Tours with my father so she can keep his money for parties and shopping._

"She travels with my father," I said, a brittle smile now plastered to my face.

"Ah, yes. Those two lovebirds," Slughorn said. "Inseparable at Hogwarts! Well, I'm glad to see that love hasn't faded." He turned to the students. "Now—dinner!"

The other students bypassed me with inquisitive glances and murmurs. I ignored them, but that familiar thick feeling—like I had something stuck in my throat—crept over me. The only thing that kept me from turning and fleeing the room was James's hand on my elbow.

"Hey," he said. His face was normal, but I could see the curiosity simmering in his gaze. "Sit with me?"

A question, I realized. Not a request. He was giving me the choice of staying or leaving.

"Go on ahead," I said, my voice oddly raspy. "I'm not feeling too well. That cream puff…"

"Shove it," he said. "C'mon; I'll walk you back to the common room."

"No, James," I said stubbornly. "Stay here. Talk to Evans or something. I'll be fine."

Everyone was taking their seats, and I knew there was only a matter of time until Slughorn realized James and I were still standing and questioned us.

I shook my arm free of James's grasp. "Eat. I'll see you tomorrow." I practically ran from the room, my appetite quelled. I was halfway up the stairs back to the ground floor when I heard footsteps behind me, and I turned to see James following.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. "I said you could stay."

He ignored my glare and kept moving past me, taking the stairs two at a time with his long legs. He shot me a smirk over his shoulder. "I couldn't let my girlfriend leave without me, could I? That's not gentlemanly at all."

I huffed and jogged after him until we reached the ground floor. "This is the perfect opportunity to talk to Evans, and you're wasting it by following me."

"I wouldn't call it a waste," he said. He looked at me, his eyes searching my face. "Why didn't you ever tell me Grayson Capaldi was your dad?"

I groaned, rubbing a hand over my face. "Why do you think?" I fixed him with a cold look. "And it's not my fault you never made the connection before."

He shook his head. "I'll admit; I am kinda pissed I never realized. I mean, it's obvious now. Besides the name, you look exactly like him."

"Yeah, I know." I sighed. "Look, I just didn't want anyone to base me off him, y'know? I didn't want people to pretend to be friends with me because he's a professional Quidditch player and all that, and I certainly didn't want anyone comparing me to him when I joined Quidditch myself. It's stupid, yeah, but I'm not him. I don't want to be him."

I shut my mouth quickly after that. I hadn't meant for that last part to slip out. But James still studied me, his lips quirked in contemplation. "What?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. I just get where you're coming from." He tilted his head. "I'm just wondering why you never told _me. _I mean, I'm assuming Leigh and Renee already know; they're your closest friends. I just thought…I dunno."

I frowned. Was he…disappointed? Hurt? Did he really think we were that close? James was my friend, but I always knew that Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew were his best mates. I never even considered the possibility that James thought we were anything more than casual friends.

I crossed my arms. "I dunno, either. I guess I just thought it wasn't that important."

He nodded slowly. "Look, Cleo, I don't mean to pry, but… Your dad being famous isn't that bad, right? I mean, I get that it can be uncomfortable, but ditching the party because of that… I dunno. It just doesn't add up."

"That's a conversation for another time." _Preferably never. _"I appreciate you checking on me, James, but you really should get back. I'll be fine."

"Nah." At my confused frown, he lifted his shoulders. "They were serving duck, and I'm just not a fan." He raised his eyebrows. "I was thinking we could go to the kitchens instead."

"No one knows how to get into the kitchens," I pointed out. "Well, except maybe the Hufflepuffs."

James smiled widely. "Then allow me to prove you wrong, Capaldi."

* * *

A painting that had to be tickled in the exact right spot. That was how students were granted access to the kitchens.

I shook my head in disbelief after James finished tickling the pear in the portrait of a bowl of fruit and it giggled shrilly, the frame swinging forward like the Fat Lady did for the Gryffindor Common Room. Behind it squatted a short stone tunnel that oddly smelled of bacon.

"The more I learn about this castle, the less I know," I said when James climbed into the tunnel first. "Who thinks of tickling a pear?"

"Geniuses," he said, offering me a hand so I wouldn't trip on my robes. I accepted it and emerged from the tunnel into the enormous kitchens to stand beside him. My mouth fell open, and he chuckled. "Brilliant, isn't it?"

It was an exact replica of the Great Hall, with the House tables and everything, but with massive stoves and cookware lining every inch of the walls as house-elves bustled about, occasionally appearing or disappearing with loud _CRACKS. _James led me to what would be the Gryffindor table and sat across from me, clearly amused by my bafflement as I looked around in wonder.

"Why didn't you bring me here sooner?" I demanded. "This is _amazing."_

He tapped the side of his nose. "Have to keep some secrets, don't I? Or else my sexy air of mystery would be in jeopardy."

I was still too much in awe to retch at the description of him being _sexy. _"I'm never leaving this place."

James chuckled. "What do you want to eat? I'll put in our order with a house-elf. They'll be more than happy to do it; they don't get many visitors, but I've always been a favorite."

"Anything," I said. "Everything. Whatever I can get my hands on."

"Well," he said wryly, standing up, "at least you make things easy on me, Cupcake."

"Oi!" I called after him. "I told you to never call me that again!"

He ignored me, of course, but when he returned with a basket of fresh bread rolls, still warm from the oven, my annoyance was completely forgotten. I took a roll and inhaled deeply, the yeasty scent filling me with the sensation of coming home after a long day out in the cold.

"You're really into food, aren't you?" James asked. His lips quirked in amusement as he picked a piece off his own roll and popped it into his mouth. "First the cream puffs, and now this."

"Food is the essence of life, my dear James," I said, still holding the bread reverently. "Nothing in this world holds more power to bring people together than food does."

"Not even love?"

"Love has too many definitions; too many different ideas of what it's truly about to unite people for long," I said. The soft, flaky crust of the bread still warmed my fingertips while James watched, seemingly unsure if I was pulling his leg or not. "But a simple loaf of bread can create lasting bonds between people. It's a tangible thing; not some abstract emotion that varies across individuals."

"Since when were you a philosopher?" he joked. "I feel like I'm back in my dad's study while he reads me those boring books by Plato and Aristotle." I rolled my eyes at him and bit into the bread, savoring its buttery taste. He shook his head. "I'll admit: Food is great. But I still think love is more powerful."

"Now who's the philosopher?" I quipped.

He grinned and knocked his knuckles absently on the table. "You ever been in love, Cleo?"

I made a face at him. "Gross. No."

"Good," he said. "It's shit. Especially when you love someone, and they don't love you back."

"You're just being dramatic now."

He heaved a great sigh. "Yeah. Maybe I am." We ate in silence until he spoke again. "So, your dad?"

"Isn't relevant," I said, lowering the bread from my mouth with a scowl. I began picking at it, tearing off the crust. "He plays Quidditch and I happen to be related to him. Nothing else to add."

"And your mum? Slughorn had a lot to say about her."

The bread crumbled in my hands. "She gave birth to me. That's what mums do."

He watched me with those hazel eyes—the ones that were far too observant, far too clever. "You've never talked about her, either."

"Not much to talk about when she's never around," I said before I could help myself. I sighed. "Whatever. Forget it. My dad's been in the league since I was born; it's not like I'm unused to it."

James hesitated. "Do you speak to them, though?"

"They send postcards, sometimes, and I write them letters." I watched the breadcrumbs fall from my fingers onto the table. "I haven't seen them since Christmas. They didn't bother coming home from Spain when we were on our summer holiday." I shook my head. "Why do you even care?"

"Because I'm your friend, Cleo," he said, "and, honestly, I feel pretty shitty now that I never knew what was going on in your life before."

"You have your own problems," I said. _And Black's, _I wanted to add, but I knew that would just get us into an argument. "And it's not like I can't manage on my own. I've been doing it just fine for years now."

"You shouldn't have to," James said, frowning.

"Yeah, well, I do," I said with a shrug. I plowed on before he could reply. "What did you order for us?"

"Chocolate cake." He grinned at my expression. "It's your favorite, right? Especially when it has raspberry filling. Which I also told the house-elves about. So, chocolate cake with raspberry filling for the lady." He mockingly bowed.

"I thought you ordered it for both of us?"

"Well, I should add that only _half_ the cake is chocolate. The other half is vanilla, as I happen to hate chocolate."

I gasped. "You can't be serious. How can you hate _chocolate?_"

He wrinkled his nose. "Dunno. Too rich, I guess? It always makes my stomach hurt afterwards."

"This was a mistake," I said, shaking my head. "I can't pretend to date somebody who hates chocolate. I'm sorry, but I have to go."

I stood up like I was making for the door, but James laughed. "Sit down, Cleo, or else you won't be getting any cake."

Disgruntled at his valid point, I sat back down. As if his words summoned them, two house-elves rushed over and deposited a cake pan between us, one half chocolate, and the other vanilla. Forks appeared at our elbows at the same time as the elves dashed off, and I picked mine up while James did the same.

"_Bon appétit," _he said, clinking his fork against mine. I rolled my eyes but dug in, immediately transcending to a higher plane as the cake melted on my tongue. James snorted. "Can you please stop having orgasms every time you eat? It's starting to get weird."

"Like you even know what a female orgasm looks like," I scoffed, going in for another bite.

His face morphed into the cocky expression I'd seen on him one too many times. "I happen to know _intimately _well what one looks like, Gnome." He smirked at my dubious look. "Just because I've been hung up on Evans doesn't mean I've been idle all this time."

"Name one, then," I said around my cake.

"Gretchen Goodrum."

I nearly spat out my bite. _"What? _When?"

"Last year," he said smugly, taking his own bite and clearly relishing my shock as he chewed slowly. "At the top of the Astronomy Tower, as a matter of fact."

"That's…" I trailed off. I shouldn't be that surprised, honestly. James wasn't ugly, after all, and he'd had his fair share of admirers over the years. Not as many as Black, to be sure, but there were some. And Gretchen Goodrum—though a Ravenclaw Chaser, and thus our rival—was pretty, athletic, and smart. I could see it, the more I thought about it. But the more I thought about it, the more my mind could picture the scene of James going down on someone with the stars above the Astronomy Tower behind him, and suddenly those legs looked a lot like mine—

I shoved another bite of cake into my mouth, shutting down that train of thought instantly. Gross. No. Ew. Just the sheer _implication _of James doing that… _Disgusting. _

"Inspired?" he suggested, wagging his eyebrows when I didn't finish my sentence.

"Sickening to even think about," I said. "I feel my cake coming back up again."

He laughed. "At least you're honest." I shrugged, but he wasn't done. "I think that's one of the reasons I wanted to be your friend when you joined the team," he said. "You were always so straightforward; you always said what was on your mind, no matter what."

"You gonna cry on me, Prawns?" I asked, grinning when he flipped me off.

"Just being nice," he said.

"Yeah, well, you aren't too shabby yourself," I said, spearing my fork through another layer of the spongy cake. I thought for a minute. "I think it was your confidence that got me—not your arrogance, but your confidence. There was a difference." I chewed, thoughtful. "You always seemed to know what to do, and I envied you for it. I wanted to be more like you; to know how to walk into a room and feel like I belonged there, even if I didn't."

He pretended to wipe a tear. "That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't get used to it."

We chuckled into our respective cakes and fell silent. James played with his fork absently until he asked, "You think our plan will work?"

I quirked my lips. "Even if it doesn't, at least I got a term's worth of homework out of it."

He nodded, still twirling the fork in his grasp. "If it does, I get Lily Evans to finally see me. But if not…" He shrugged. "I dunno what I get. Heartbreak, maybe?"

"Closure?" I set my fork down. "If things don't work out between you and Evans, you know it's not the end of the world, right? You're still going to graduate and go out into the real world. Even if Evans rejects you, at least then you'll have your answer. Then you can move on."

"You're right." He sighed. "Even if I don't want you to be."

"Anyone ever tell you that you're a complete and utter sap?"

"I prefer 'hopeless romantic,' thank you very much."

"Well, at least you got the hopeless part down."

"Oh, Gnome." He reached across the table and clasped my hand. "I'm so glad we're friends."

"Me, too, weirdo," I said with a small smile.

He checked his pocket watch. "You reckon it's time we go back to the common room? It's getting late."

"Yeah, let's go. I'm done, anyway," I said, shoveling the last bite of cake into my mouth as I stood up.

James chuckled at my full mouth before we left the kitchens and walked back to the common room in amicable silence. After we gave the Fat Lady the password and were permitted to enter Gryffindor Tower, we stood uncertainly in the empty common room.

"Er, I had a great time tonight," James said, always the one to break the silence. He grinned. "Even if it didn't exactly go as planned."

I snorted. "Yeah, thanks, Sluggy."

After a slight hesitation, he stepped forward and hugged me. "Thank you, Cleo. For, ah, you know…everything."

I hugged him back, realizing for the first time that James and I had never actually hugged before. He smelled nice—like neroli and something earthier that I couldn't quite place—and he was incredibly warm. It also made me realize how much shorter than him I was, my head fitting into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

"Don't mention it," I said as I pulled away, the drafty castle air already swooping in and reclaiming the space where his heat had just been. "See you tomorrow?"

He winked. "Bright and early for practice."

I groaned. "You're a menace."

He just laughed. "Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning, _girlfriend."_

I glared at him as I started for the stairs. "Shut up before I strangle you, _boyfriend." _

His laugh chased me all the way up the stairs.

* * *

**Please review! I'd love to hear your thoughts, especially after such a long time between updates!**

**Next Chapter: _Put Your Money On Me_**

**xx**


	6. Put Your Money On Me

**Thanks everyone for your patience! Hope you're all staying safe and sane out there. **

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Put Your Money On Me**

Practice was hell.

James worked us like he was training racehorses. If whips were allowed at Hogwarts, I'm sure he'd be brandishing one. Each drill was more taxing than the last, and the plays he ran us through were so complex that I could barely focus on the Quaffle itself. By the time he called it quits, the team was sprawled on the field, sweaty and defeated.

Trevor Bell—the third Chaser after James and me, and a fifth year—crawled over to where I sat in the short, itchy grass, stretching my sore muscles. His blond hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his cheeks were ruddy and mottled.

"Cleo," he panted, falling limply to the ground beside me, "your boyfriend is a terror." He tried to get up again and failed. "God, I've gone numb."

I snorted. Even after a week, it was still weird to think that people considered James my actual boyfriend. "Sorry, Trev."

Facedown, he groaned into the grass. "How do you stand him? I feel like he's the kind of bloke that would put you through drills in the sack!"

I swatted his back. He groaned again.

As if on cue, a shadow passed above my head that turned out to be James jumping over me like he was in a game of leapfrog. He flopped down beside me, grinning, and I wondered again where he kept all his energy stored. He was never tired!

"Trevor; Cleo," he greeted. "Discussing your pass-offs, I hope? You weren't synchronized at all today."

"Because I was trying to stay on my broom," I said, miffed. "I can't exactly think of your one-hundred-step plays when I'm focused on flying."

Trevor groaned again, his face still in the grass. I was starting to think we needed a stretcher to get the kid off the pitch. James ignored him.

"The plays aren't complicated," he said with a small frown. "They're just advanced. If we want to look good for that scout next summer, we need to be able to show off a little."

"They're a flying hazard to the whole team," I pointed out. "You saw me get tangled up with Black on that last pass!"

"All right then, Gnome. You got any better ideas?"

"Yeah, a whole journal's worth."

He blinked. "You coordinate tactics?"

"And draw up plays, but thanks for noticing."

He stared at me, still stumped. "How come I've never heard about them?"

I stood up and twisted my torso until my back cracked. I sighed when James still looked at me, expectant. "Because unlike you, our last captain listened to me."

Trevor groaned once more as he sat up, casting us a disgusted glance. "You're both great, but I don't think I can stomach a lovers' quarrel right now." And on that note, he slumped off.

I looked after him, baffled, before turning to James. "_Lovers' quarrel_? We're talking about Quidditch!"

James just shrugged, running a hand through his sweaty hair so it stuck up like spikes. "At least it means people are taking us dating seriously."

"Fake dating," I muttered on reflex.

James grinned. "Right." He wiggled his hand at me from where he still sat on the ground. "A little help, my lovely Gnome?"

"Piss off, Prawns," I said, but offered him my hand anyway, to my mistake.

With a mischievous grin, he grabbed my hand and pulled, hard. I yelped, his weight taking me off my feet and toppling me forward. He caught me before I fell completely on top of him, but his face grinned at me between where my hands braced on either side of his head.

"So," he said casually, as if nothing had just happened, "Hogsmeade this weekend? We have to keep up our pretense. People will be watching."

"Fine, you nutter." I rolled my eyes, but my face was burning. James didn't seem to be the least bit bothered over what a compromising position he'd put us in. "But no Madam Puddifoot's, or else I'll dump you on the spot."

"Fake dump," he corrected.

In response, I let a trail of saliva fall out of my mouth and dangle just above his nose.

He shrieked and bucked me off him to escape. I rolled onto the ground, roaring with laughter.

"Your—face!" I gasped. "Holy shit, James—you should've seen it—"

"You're sick!" he said. "Dammit, Cleo, why?"

I couldn't answer; I just laughed harder at the look of sheer offense on his face.

"Mental," he mumbled under his breath as he hoisted me to my feet. I still giggled like mad. "Absolutely loony…"

He kept up his dark mutterings as we went back to the castle together, our broomsticks slung over our shoulders as the sun set across the grounds. We entered the entrance hall at the same time that Lily Evans descended the great marble staircase, her four roommates and Dorcas right behind her.

Before Lily noticed us, James snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me closer. I fought to keep my expression pleasant as the seventh-year girl caught sight of us.

"Potter," she greeted cordially. Her eyes flicked to me, and I thought I saw a flash of disappointment in them before it was gone. She smiled kindly. "Cleo. How are you?"

"Good, thanks," I said before James could reply. "Hi, Dorcas."

My roommate gave me a polite smile, but I noticed her eyes drift to James's hand on my waist before she glanced to Lily uncertainly. "Hi, Cleo."

"We just got done with practice," said James unnecessarily, since our brooms were obviously in our hands and no one had asked. "Ready for rounds tomorrow, Evans?"

"Looking forward to it," Lily said in a tone that sounded like the very opposite, but she bestowed a final smile upon me. "Have a good night."

She went into the Great Hall with Dorcas and the other girls. James stared after her dreamily, only moving when I slipped out of his grasp to head toward the stairs.

"Oi, wait up!" He jogged back to my side. "Did you hear that? She said she was looking forward to our rounds together!"

"Er, yeah, but I don't think—"

James wasn't listening. "I'm a genius. This is the most brilliant plan I've had yet. I'll have Evans bagged by the end of the year."

"Lily," I said. I raised my eyebrows at him as we ascended the staircases leading up to Gryffindor Tower. "You should stop calling her Evans. It's kind of impersonal."

He plowed on. "Yeah, yeah—but just think, if I could get her to like me back by Valentine's—"

I listened half-heartedly as we walked back to our tower. It was bad enough listening to James groan about Lily hating him, but give the guy a dose of hope and he was unbearable. By the time we reached the portrait hole, I was ready to wallop him over the head with my broom.

"_Mugwump_," I told the Fat Lady over James's chatter, and she swung forward to let us enter. When we got to the common room, I sighed in relief when I noticed Black sitting with Lupin and Pettigrew by the fireplace. I shoved James toward them and said, "Take him. Please. He won't shut up."

Lupin gave me a friendly smile. "That bad?"

James pouted. "You're ditching me?"

"For a shower? Absolutely."

He threw himself down beside Pettigrew. "Fine. Be that way."

I rolled my eyes. "See you later."

"'Bye, Cupcake!"

I just shook my head and went to my dorm.

* * *

James turned away from the girls' staircases, grinning. His and Cleo's run-in with Evans in the entrance hall had buoyed his mood even more after a rigorous practice, and he was practically glowing. However, his grin wilted when all three of his best mates glared at him. "What?"

"You're a piss-poor liar, is what," Sirius said with a scowl.

"What do you mean?"

Remus looked disapproving, shaking out the stray copy he'd found of _Transfiguration Today _so he could read it. "Leading Cleo on like this? That's low, James; especially for you."

James glanced between all three of his mates, bewildered. Though Peter didn't chime in, he still didn't meet James's eyes when they swept over the blond boy. James frowned. "You think I'm leading Cleo on?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "You're thick. Of course we think that—it's exactly what you're doing to try and get over Evans!"

James sat for a moment, silent. He'd expected his friends to know something was up between him and Cleo, but not like this. He sighed. He'd wanted to wait until after the holidays and his scheme with Cleo was finished to tell them the truth, but he should've known they would be too perceptive for their own good, even if they weren't entirely on the mark.

James scooted his chair closer to them, keeping his voice down when he said, "Look, it's not what you think. Cleo doesn't even _like _me in that way, so how could I be leading her on?"

Remus glared. "You're _dating _her—"

"No, he isn't," Sirius cut in. He stared at James, realization lighting his eyes from within, like a lamp had just flickered on behind his irises. "He just wants us to think that."

James grinned as he waited for Remus and Peter to catch on. Remus got it first, groaning and throwing his head back, but Peter took a few minutes longer to comprehend. When he finally did, his eyes went wide. He squeaked, "Prongs, you sly dog!"

"Stag," he corrected, waggling his eyebrows. "And, yes, Wormtail, thank you; I'm brilliant, I know."

"Brilliantly stupid," said Remus. "You're really only pretending to date Cleo to—what? Make Lily jealous?"

James snapped his fingers. "Bingo."

Remus shook his head. "That's juvenile."

James gave him a lopsided grin. "You gonna tell on me, Remus? Or dock some points? Oh, wait. You can't. Because I'm Head Boy."

Remus sighed. "How did you even get Cleo to agree to this?"

"McGonagall threatened to yank her off the team if she didn't get her grades up." James reclined in his seat and shrugged. "I couldn't let that happen, especially if there's a scout coming in the summer. So, I'm helping her with her work between now and Christmas."

When Remus still looked dubious, James scrubbed a hand through his hair with a sigh. "It's not that serious, Moony. I've tried everything to get Evans to like me, but nothing has worked. Maybe backing off a bit and expressing interest in someone else will…I dunno, make her realize she feels something for me under all the pretense of hating my guts?"

Remus rustled his magazine again. "All right, fine. I still think this is a terrible idea, but as long as you made it clear to Cleo what your intentions are…"

James grinned. "No worries there, mate. She's my partner in crime."

Sirius pouted. "I thought that was me, Prongs?"

"Of course, my darling Padfoot," James cooed. He reached out and ruffled Sirius's hair, to the other boy's annoyance. "You know you're always my best man." When Peter huffed, indignant, James added, "And you, my precious Wormtail."

Peter brightened instantly. Sirius snorted at him. "Don't wet yourself, Pete." He turned back to James, ignoring Peter's hurt look. "Contradicting Moony, I think your plan just might work, Prongs."

"Really?"

Sirius tossed his hair out of his eyes with a smirk. "Women go nuts when they think a bloke has lost interest in them. Remember Mary MacDonald our fifth year?"

"Didn't she throw a lamp at your head when she thought you were shacking up with some Ravenclaw?" asked Peter.

"Case in point," said Sirius.

"I'd rather not get a lamp chucked at me, but I see your point, Pads," James said. He grinned. "Although, the difference between me and you is that Cleo doesn't actually fancy me. She's just a good friend helping me out."

"Well, you picked a viable choice," Sirius said, slumping in his seat and still managing to make it look luxurious. "I heard some Hufflepuffs talking about it outside of Charms today. One reckoned she'd seen it coming for miles."

James sat up straighter, frowning. "Wait, what?"

Sirius shrugged. "Dunno, mate. Some rubbish about you two being on the same team and hanging out over the years. At least they're buying it, yeah?"

"Yeah, I guess." James scratched the back of his neck. Cleo had been his choice precisely because of those reasons, but hearing other people's speculations made him uncomfortable. It wasn't until then that he realized this wasn't just another prank; people were actually taking this seriously. It should have made him ecstatic.

So why did he suddenly have a heavy feeling weighing in his gut?

* * *

There was nothing like a hot shower after a gruesome practice to relax my stiff muscles. I felt loads better already as I climbed out and dressed in a simple shirt and sweatpants. Scrubbing a towel over my damp hair, I ventured out into the dormitory and joined Leigh and Renee atop Leigh's bed. Dorcas wasn't there, so I assumed she was still with the seventh-year girls at dinner. That just left me and my two friends, who were swapping their horoscopes from the latest issue of _Witch Weekly. _

"Look here," said Leigh, tapping the page with a midnight-blue nail. She offered me a smile in greeting but continued speaking to Renee, who was stretched out on her side looking bored. "It says for Scorpios, we should expect a sudden influx of Galleons from an unexpected source…a great life-altering event is coming soon…oh! 'Be wary of past lovers!'" Leigh tossed the magazine at Renee's face. "See! Even the stars say that Sirius Black is no good!"

Renee brushed the magazine aside irritably. "Horoscopes are rubbish, anyway. How can you even believe in this stuff?"

"Astrology is an ancient art," Leigh said, taking back her magazine with a sniff.

Renee traded a look with me. "Just because it's old doesn't mean it's right."

Leigh ignored her, turning to me instead. "Cleo! Let's see what your horoscope is."

"Let me guess." I flopped back on her bed, staring up at the red canopy. "Something super generic that could mean literally anything?"

She scanned the page, either ignoring me like she did Renee or too engrossed in reading to answer me. "July 11th is your birthday…so you're a Cancer—"

"Thanks."

"—Ah! Here we go. 'Your patience will be put to the test this week—'"

I snorted. James was certainly proving that claim right between his insane practices and ogling over Lily.

"'—You should brace for big news—'"

I stared, unimpressed, as she gasped. "And it says your lover is not what they seem!"

I wanted to laugh. Utter nonsense or not, the horoscope at least got that right. James was certainly _not _my lover, as it would seem to the rest of the student body. Instead, I shrugged and copied Renee. "C'mon, Leigh; it's bullshit. Just like every other art of Divination."

Renee made a noise of disgust. "I can't believe you're dating Potter. You need some divine intervention there."

"Don't be rude, Renee!" Leigh swatted her arm. "I think it's cute. They've been on the team together for _years_. And, quite frankly, it's about time he got over Lily Evans—"

Leigh cut off when the dormitory door opened. Dorcas walked in and glanced at the three of us on Leigh's bed before hurrying to her trunk.

"Hi, Dorcas," Leigh said. She smiled. "Enjoy dinner?"

"Yeah, it was all right," Dorcas said, depositing her scarf in her trunk before closing the lid again. She glanced to me. "Er, James asked me to find you, Cleo. He wants to…cuddle by the fireplace. Um, his words, not mine."

I turned on her. "He _what?_"

Dorcas cringed. "Er, I think he used the word 'snuggle,' actually, but…yeah."

I was going to murder him. Slowly and painfully.

I waved my hand. "All right, yeah. Tell him I'll be down in a minute."

She hesitated, her eyes darting between me, Leigh, and Renee before she finally blurted, "So, you and Potter are a thing? For real?"

"Yes." I arched an eyebrow. "Why?"

She shook her head quickly. "It's nothing. I just wanted to be sure. I mean, it happened so suddenly—" She shut her mouth, her face flushing. "Never mind. I'll tell Potter you'll be there soon."

She rushed out the door before I could even open my mouth. I looked to Leigh and Renee, but they seemed just as confused as me.

"Well, I'm not surprised she asked," said Leigh. "She's good friends with Lily…"

Renee narrowed her eyes at the door. "I bet she was asking for Lily, not herself."

Leigh gasped again, startling me. I was going to have to tell this girl to stop unless Death Eaters were attacking us to avoid a heart attack. "Do you think Lily could secretly like James? Do you think she's _jealous_?"

"If she is, she should suffer in silence," Renee said in a haughty tone. "She had years to take her chance." She looked at me. "Don't worry about Evans, Cleo. I'll take care of her."

I nodded, a tight smile on my face. Despite the realization that James's barmy plan might actually be working, uncertainty tugged at my gut all the same. I had nothing against Lily Evans. If she really _was _jealous of me being with James, no matter how fake our act, I certainly didn't want to rub it in her face.

_Just a couple more months, _I reminded myself. _Then James and Lily can ride off into the sunset together and I can pretend this whole thing never happened. _

I stood up and stretched. "I probably shouldn't keep James waiting. You coming down with me?"

"Is _he _down there?" Renee asked. I nodded, remembering that Sirius had been by the fireplace when I came up. She wrinkled her nose. "Then no."

"I'll stay with you," Leigh offered her. She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "I wouldn't want to intrude on you and James, Cleo."

"Suit yourself." I waved. "I'll be back up later so we can go to dinner together."

After receiving their affirmations, I shut the door and trudged down the stairs. Sure enough, James sat by the fireplace with his mates. Across the room, I spotted Dorcas sitting at a back table with Lily Evans and the other seventh-year girls. I thought I saw them staring at me when I entered, but when I checked, they were engrossed in homework.

"Cleo," said James warmly when I approached. He sat in one of the plush armchairs while Pettigrew took up the whole loveseat, and Lupin and Black shared the couch. I vaguely wondered how he could possibly want to "snuggle" until he patted his lap. "Best seat in the house for you."

My jaw clenched, but I forced myself to relax when I felt the other boys watching me. "Best? I think you mean boniest."

He chuckled. "That hurts, Gnome. But fine. Sit up here." He indicated the arm of the chair and I grudgingly took a seat. Black barked out a harsh laugh.

"I can't believe I never noticed it before," he said, chortling. "How on earth do you two have the entire school fooled when she makes faces like _that_?"

He pointed to me and what surely must have been a pained expression on my face. Alarmed, I rearranged my features, but when I glanced to James, he was laughing, too.

"They know," he said to my look.

"_What? _No fair! I'm telling Leigh and Renee now if _they_ know."

James tugged me back down when I stood up, indignant. "I didn't really tell them. They sort of figured it out on their own."

"Still." I sniffed. "If your friends can know, then so can mine."

"Fair enough." James grinned. "However, we still have a show to put on, so without further ado—"

He reached over and placed his right hand on my thigh. Not high enough to be indecent, but I still stiffened all the same. My face grew hot when his friends started snickering, and it only burned more when his thumb began absently tracing back and forth across my pant leg.

"This is mortifying," I hissed.

"This is my new nightly entertainment," Black said.

I hung my head. "How long do I have to stay here?"

"Oh, you can leave whenever you like," said James cheerfully. His large hand was warm, creating a pool of heat where it rested on my thigh. Even though it was James's hand, the sensation still felt nice, which made me hate it. "I just wanted to ask you about your Quidditch plays."

"Really?" I lifted my head. "You'll listen?"

He grinned and leaned in close. His friends laughed again, but I could only focus on the mere inches separating our faces as he said, "Anything for you, Gnome."

I peeked through my hair to the table where Lily Evans sat. She paid us no attention, but her friends were openly gawking. "We have an audience."

"Oh, I know." He brushed my chin lightly with a finger. Black choked on a snort.

I smiled sweetly, but my voice was hard when I said, "Don't even _think _about kissing me."

"Hadn't crossed my mind," he said. His hand lowered from my face to tangle in my hair. He gave it a little tug. "I hardly ever see you with your hair down. It's usually in a braid or those two knots you make on the top of your head."

"Because it looks like a lion's mane when it's dry." I removed his hand from my hair, but my stomach made an irritating and irrational swoop when his fingers moved from my hair to intertwine with mine. I swore Pettigrew was about to keel over from keeping his laughter contained.

"I like it," he said, as if his opinion on my hair mattered.

"Noted." I shot a glare at the other three boys. "Will you lot _shut up_?"

"The secondhand embarrassment is too much," said Black, wiping a tear from his eye and getting to his feet. "I'm going to dinner before I lose my appetite entirely."

He left, and Lupin and Pettigrew followed on his heels. I glared at James. "Can I kill them?"

"I'd prefer you not to, seeing as they're my best mates," he said. He jerked his head to the loveseat. "Snuggle? Platonically, of course."

"Who says snuggle?"

"Me." He pouted. "Please?"

"Ugh, fine. Just don't get comfortable," I warned as we swapped seats. "I'm going to dinner with Leigh and Renee soon."

"Five minutes," he said, reclining horizontally on the loveseat and kicking off his shoes. He held out an arm and I reluctantly put my back against it and stretched out beside him, acutely aware of every single place our bodies touched. "Good?"

"I'd rather eat one of Hagrid's galoshes."

"Harsh. Have I ever mentioned you have some of the greatest insults?"

"I practice them specifically for you."

He gave me a squeeze. "So thoughtful."

We fell silent after exchanging a grin. James seemed utterly at ease, his other hand resting on his stomach with his eyes closed, but I felt like I was running a particularly nasty fever. It didn't help that James ran as hot as a Heating Charm, or that half the common room was whispering about us. After a few minutes, James nudged me.

"Relax, will you? I feel like I'm cuddling a broomstick."

I snorted. "Don't act like you've never done it. I see the way you treat yours. Like a baby."

"Bertha and I are _much _closer than that, thank you."

"You named your broom?"

"Uh-huh."

I snickered. "I'm just shocked you didn't name it Evans."

"Nah, that's my pillow."

I whacked his chest when he laughed. In retaliation, he sat up and brought his other arm around me to put me in a headlock. "Argh, James, gerroff!"

"Tell me about one of your plays first. If I like it, I'll let you go."

I struggled in vain. "And if you don't?"

I could hear the grin in his voice when he said, "Then I guess we're staying like this."

Sighing, I went limp. "Fine. There's one I call the triple eight." I tried to use my arms to demonstrate, but since James still held me, it was difficult. "Trevor and I fly in a figure eight pattern, passing off the Quaffle at each apex." I crossed my arms to show him. "You hang back, pretending to be too guarded by the opponent to get close to us. But on the third figure eight when Trevor and I make our last pass, you fly straight, cleaving through all of us" —I made the motion with my hands— "and leaving your guard in the dust. I pass off to you, and since Trevor and I have our own guards, we'll block them while you score."

It was silent while James absorbed my words. Even though I couldn't see him, I knew he was thinking hard on what I'd said. I could imagine his face in my mind's eye: the quirked lips, the dimpled chin, the faraway hazel eyes…and then when he came to a conclusion, he'd say—

"Well, slap me thrice and call me Merlin!" He let go and I sat up, disgruntled. He looked at me as if he'd never seen me before. "Is that based off the figure eight play the Appleby Arrows used in the league four seasons ago?"

I cringed at the mention of my dad's team. "Yeah. I, er, adapted it from my dad's playbook. He's the one who came up with it." I rushed to explain. "But the play didn't work because of its brevity. So I took one and changed it to three to allow for a wider flying pattern, and—why are you staring at me like that?"

He chuckled, a wide grin on his face as he shook his head. "It's just—you always change so much when you talk about Quidditch."

I suddenly felt self-conscious, especially when he kept gazing at me. "I do?"

He nodded. "Your eyes just light up. And you talk faster and louder. And your arms are always moving—" He waved his own wildly to imitate. "It's just…adorable."

We both realized what he'd said at the same time. His grin faltered and he chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, while for some inexplicable reason, I blushed.

"I just mean…uh—"

"Cleo!"

We turned. Leigh and Renee had just entered the common room. Leigh had been the one to call my name, but she looked between me and James gleefully like she'd just walked in on something deliciously scandalous. Renee kept her expression neutral, but her eyes rested on my red face and the arm James still had around me.

I got to my feet quickly, keeping my back to James. "Ready for dinner?"

Leigh nodded and shot James a grin. "Sorry, but you can't have her all to yourself."

James bowed graciously. "Certainly, Morello. Enjoy your meal."

Before I left, James took my hand and kissed it lightly. I swore Leigh let out a dreamy sigh behind me. Whatever trace of awkwardness he'd had earlier vanished as he said, "See you later, Gnome."

For the masses, I swiped my thumb across his cheek. "Prawns."

He grinned, and I left him at the fireplace to join Leigh and Renee. On our way to the portrait hole, I glanced at the table Lily Evans sat at. From her seat, she watched James with a slight frown on her face.

When we reached the corridor, Leigh whirled on me. "You and James are _so _cute!"

I grimaced. "Yeah, about that… There's probably something you should know."

* * *

**Let me know what you thought! And if there's anything you'd like to see in the future, don't hesitate to drop it in a review or shoot me a PM!**

**The stakes will be ramping up from here on out, so brace yourselves for some rough tides...**

**Thanks for reading and sticking with me!**


	7. Dangerous Woman

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Harry Potter. Anything you don't recognize is mine._

**Thank you, Epochs, forever my knight in shining armor, for giving me the motivation to finish this chapter. You're a blessing, as always.**

**And thank you all for your reviews, follows, and favorites! It's immensely helpful and wonderful to know what you think of the story!**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Dangerous Woman**

They took it about as well as I expected.

"_WHAT_?" Leigh and Renee shouted in unison, capturing the attention of half the Great Hall, who shot us dirty glances and whispers.

"Shh!" I hissed, flapping my arms at them. "D'you want the whole damn school to hear?"

Leigh looked ready to cry into her stew. "You mean this whole time…it was _fake_?"

I nodded, guilty, and she threw her hands up. "Ugh! And I was encouraging it? That's so embarrassing!" She huffed. "Now I feel like a right prat."

"Don't feel bad," I said hastily. "I shouldn't've kept it from you in the first place. I'm sorry."

I glanced to Renee, who'd fallen silent after her exclamation and now sat with her elbows on the table, frowning.

She sighed when she caught my eye. "You're a git, Cleo, but that's why I love you so much."

I picked up my fork, shifting my gaze between the two. "So, no hard feelings?"

"Not from me," Leigh said while Renee shook her head. "But things are going to be _so _awkward now…"

"Not for much longer," I said as I stabbed a chunk off my shepherd's pie. "Just until Christmas. And then—"

I made a cutting off motion.

Renee smirked. "You'll kill him?"

Leigh laughed, and I grinned.

"If he keeps up these bloody awful practices, I just might," I said.

"Merlin." Leigh shook her head. "I can't believe I fell for it. I thought you guys were so cute."

I looked at Renee. She shrugged. "It happened rather fast, but I still bought it. I mean, it's not like you two are strangers. You've been friends for years now. It wasn't anything unnatural."

I silently cursed James for being right. It turns out I _was _the perfect candidate, if even my own friends believed there was a connection between us.

That thought bothered me a lot more than it should have as we continued to eat dinner. Why was it so easy to trick people into thinking that James and I were actually dating? It's not like I was the only girl on the team—James spent loads of time with Emmeline Vance as well, even though she was a fifth-year.

I frowned into my plate. James and I got on well enough, that was true. More than that. He wasn't my best friend by any means, but he wasn't just my teammate, either. He was someone I enjoyed being around. He was funny, charismatic, witty, attractive—

I choked on my pie. Attractive? _Attractive? _There was no way those two thoughts could coexist in my mind—James Potter as _attractive_. I almost puked up my food again.

Unbidden, the night of Professor Slughorn's dinner party came to me, with James dressed in his formal robes, his very being oozing confidence. But that didn't mean anything. Anyone looked nice when dressed up like that.

I shoved another moody bite into my mouth, lost to my deranged thoughts as Leigh and Renee kept talking without me.

All right, so James wasn't _ugly_. Far from it. I could maybe see the appeal if I squinted a bit. And even that was overshadowed if he were to stand next to someone like Sirius.

But then I thought of James during a Quidditch practice, his hair windblown and damp, his slick skin shining in the sun, the way his hazel eyes narrowed and he bit his bottom lip whenever he was about to score a goal, the way his arm muscles went taut and bulged when he threw the Quaffle…

My fork fell to the table with a clatter. Leigh and Renee ceased their conversation and turned with raised eyebrows.

"You all right, Clee?" Renee asked. "You look like you're about to be sick."

"Was it the pie?" Leigh said, picking up the serving spoon from the shepherd's pie dish and wrinkling her nose. "It doesn't look very appetizing."

"No," I said, my voice hoarse. "Oh, Godric, _please _tell me this isn't happening…"

"What on earth are you on about, you lunatic?" Renee demanded.

"If you need the loo then just go to the loo, Cleo," Leigh chimed in. "We'll wait for you."

I stared at my friends in growing fear and alarm. "I can't think he's attractive. I _can't_."

Renee frowned, saying, "Who?" at the same time that Leigh gasped. I almost upended the gravy tureen, but she ignored my glare, her blue eyes wide.

"_Potter_?" she nearly shouted. At my murderous look, she lowered her voice an octave, but I still winced. "You fancy Potter? Like, for real now?"

"No!" I said vehemently. "Never!" I gulped. "But I may have started noticing…things ever since we started this whole…thing."

Leigh clapped a hand over her mouth, looking far too enthusiastic for my taste. Renee continued frowning, her gaze darting between me and Leigh. "So? What's the big deal?"

I made a gagging sound. "The _big deal_, Renee, is that I've never thought of him in this way before! That's seriously messed up!"

She rolled her eyes. "Now you're just being dramatic. Everyone gets a tiny crush every now and then. It's nothing to worry over. It'll be gone in a fortnight."

I swallowed, conceding her point. Leigh opened her mouth, but I shook my head at her. Renee was right. It was nothing more than a passing fancy. All I had to do was not think about it, and I was golden.

Easier said than done.

* * *

Saturday morning dawned cloudless and cold. It was perfect weather for flying, but I was forced to leave my broomstick behind in our dormitory when Leigh and Renee dragged me off to visit Hogsmeade instead.

I hadn't forgotten James's offer from earlier in the week to keep up appearances in Hogsmeade by pretending to go on a date, but I hoped that he had. The last thing I needed was to be near him in any capacity after my paralyzing realization at dinner the other night. Space was the only thing I could think of to get rid of my annoying little fancy. That or casting a Memory Charm on myself. But space seemed a lot less permanent if something were to go wrong, so space it was.

Naturally, though, the first person we ran into in the courtyard had to be James. Of freaking _course_.

We'd only just gotten in the line to have our names checked off the roster by Filch when I heard _him_. My new living nightmare.

He was laughing at something Sirius had said as he and his three friends strolled into the courtyard behind us. He caught my eye instantly and grinned, his face lighting up before it guttered slightly when I swiftly turned back around.

"Oh, come off it," Renee snorted from my right. "Stop being weird. Nothing's changed."

"What if I want to snog him, though?" I whispered in a panic.

She gave me a bizarre look. "Then snog him?"

"No!" I said. "That's a terrible idea—ouch!"

I whirled on Leigh, who'd trodden on my foot so hard that several of my toes now felt broken. She widened her eyes in exasperation and gestured over her shoulder. Not a moment later, the Marauders arrived with James and Sirius in the front, as always.

"Morning, ladies," James said as he sidled up to us. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

Renee lifted an eyebrow. "Talking about the weather, are we? How delightful."

James rolled his eyes as Sirius snorted.

"Smashing to see you too, Warrington," he replied. "Have you always been so chipper?"

She gave him a mischievous smile. "Generations of my family haven't been Slytherin for nothing, you know."

"Gee," said Sirius sarcastically, "I wonder what that's like?"

Renee snorted, but her cheeks flared pink when Sirius grinned at her. I let out a quiet grunt of disgust, but luckily, only Leigh heard it. She bit her thumb to keep from laughing.

"So?" James said, looking between me, Leigh, and Renee before his eyes found mine again. This time, I fought to hold his gaze, chastising myself for reacting like a silly child before. James Potter did _not _intimidate me. No matter if his regular jumper and traveling cloak fit his broad shoulders exceedingly well, accentuating his athletic frame. Nope. Not at all. "Do they know?"

"About us?" I said. "Yeah."

"Excellent." James clapped his hands. "One less thing to worry about."

"Oh, I don't think so," Renee said with a smile that truly hinted at her Slytherin roots. I shot her a warning look, but her smile widened. "We may know, but you two still have an act to keep up." She snapped her fingers at us. "Now, cozy up, you two. You're in for a _long _day."

"I thought you were supposed to be my friend?" I exclaimed.

She only tossed her hair over her shoulder, smug. "I am. But since you _lied _to your poor best friends…"

Leigh giggled when I stepped closer to James, my face burning. "I'm so feeding you to the giant squid."

Renee's eyes sparkled. "Oh, I know."

I wrapped my arm around James's waist and tugged him closer, my head blazing beneath my beanie. Despite the brisk day, I felt like I was running a thousand-degree fever as he draped his arm across my shoulders. It didn't help that my friends and his had begun to snicker at our farce.

"Will you lot shut up?" I growled. "People are beginning to stare."

Pettigrew squeaked. "Sorry—it's just—so funny—"

He dissolved into a fit of wheezing laughter. Lupin slapped him on the back, at least having the decency to hide his grin from me, but his eyes still glinted in amusement.

I turned my back on all of them, grumbling curses under my breath as we shuffled forward in line. James chuckled, the sound making his body vibrate against my side. I fought a shiver.

"Maybe telling them was a bad idea," he mused. "If they keep it up, people are going to get suspicious."

I shot him a dirty look. "Let's not forget it was _your _mates who were too nosy for their own good."

"Touché," he agreed. "Alas, a fatal flaw of ours. Sticking our noses where they don't belong."

We fell silent again as the line moved. Though our arms were around each other, my gaze was anywhere but on him. I watched a crow take flight from one of the courtyard's arches and soar into the distant mountains, its feathers silver from the early morning light. I was brought back to earth when James tugged the end of my braid.

"Thinking about how we're definitely going to flatten Ravenclaw in the match next weekend?" he asked with a cheeky smile.

I gave him a dry look. "You remember that Ravenclaw's beaten us in every single match, yeah?"

He shrugged. "Not this year. I have a feeling we're going to win this time, and by a shameful amount of points, too."

"Whatever you say, Captain."

We shuffled forward a few more steps. The top of Filch's greasy head came into view as he checked off the names of a few Hufflepuffs I recognized.

"I was thinking," James started, keeping his gaze forward, "we should try out that triple-eight play of yours."

I nearly wrenched my head off my neck in my haste to look at him. "You're serious?"

"No, that's me," said Sirius from behind us.

We didn't bother looking. We both put up our middle finger at him.

As the group burst into laughter, I kept my eyes on James, not detecting the slightest hint that this was just a prank from him. He looked down at me, his eyes distant—he was in Captain mode.

"One hundred percent," he told me. "Let's give it a shot, see what Trevor makes of it."

I nodded, dumbstruck. "Brilliant."

He smiled, and suddenly he was back to arrogant, mischievous James. "So, Gnome, what should we do on our date today?"

I threw back my head and groaned. Of course he hadn't forgotten.

"I don't care," I said. "Just…anything but Madam Puddifoot's. I've never stepped foot in that place, and I don't plan on ending that streak today."

"All right." He nodded. "No Puddifoot's." He pursed his lips, and I had to tear my eyes away. Godric, what was _wrong _with me today? "Dervish and Banges? Mind, they don't have a great selection of Quidditch gear—not like Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon—but they might have something worth interest."

"Sounds good," I said quickly. I turned back to our friends. "Three Broomsticks for lunch? All of us?"

"Ooh, please," Leigh said. "I've been pining for some butterbeer."

"Good. We'll meet back up at noon," I said.

Renee smirked. "And where are you two going off to?"

"Dervish and Banges, you loon." I rolled my eyes. "Strictly for appearances. Now sod off."

I didn't hear her retort, as James and I reached Filch at that point.

"Potter," Filch growled with great dislike.

"Mr. Filch," James said cheerfully.

Filch looked as if he wanted nothing more than to write James up for something inconsequential, but he only marked off his name with a harsh scratch before turning to me. "Name, missy?"

"Capaldi," I said. "Cleona."

Filch found my name and drew a line through it.

"Next!" he barked.

James tugged me out of the courtyard and away from the heinous caretaker. I snickered as we started down the path toward the village in the distance.

"I always forget how much Filch loathes you," I said to James's questioning look. "It's hilarious."

James grinned and ruffled his hair. It fell across his forehead, gilded in gold from the sun. "He's furious he hasn't managed to get me or Sirius tossed out yet. It drives him mad."

"It's no wonder," I said. "You lot have made the man's life miserable since you first walked through the doors."

James snorted. "It's not our fault he's hellbent on punishment. You know, his life would be a lot easier if he just turned a blind eye…"

"Yeah, right. When flobberworms fly, more like," I scoffed.

As we continued our walk to the village, my nerves settled down again. It was just James, I realized. Despite the weird cramping sensations I got in my stomach every time I noticed something new and attractive about him, he was still the bloke I'd been friends with for years, and it was all too easy to slip back into our old banter.

When we reached the halfway point of the path, and no one was around, I slipped out from beneath James's arm and rubbed my neck, pulling away from him.

"Oi, what gives?" he said. "We have an act to put up still."

I rolled my eyes. "There's nobody here, James. When we reach the village, yeah, but right now, no one's around."

"Stick it to the people," he retorted. "I'm cold."

"You're wearing an entire cloak. How are you possibly cold?"

He sniffed. "You know I'm delicate, Cleo."

I stared. "Clearly." I waved my hand at him. "Are you a wizard or not? Conjure some flames. Cast a Heating Charm. Something."

"Too much effort," he said. He reached out and grabbed my hand. Instantly, his large one swallowed my own. "Ah. Much better."

"You're such a child," I muttered, but my face had once again gone up in flames. Wasn't there some sort of spell or potion that could make it stop?

Though our fingers remained unlaced, the intimacy of the touch didn't escape my notice. James and I had never been so…physical. Sure, there was the clap on the back or shoulder here, the hair ruffling there, but we'd never…held hands. I wasn't even sure we'd ever hugged.

But here we were, hand-in-hand. And—sweet Merlin, was he doing the thumb thing?

I glanced down at our hands in alarm. He hummed to himself as we walked, swinging our hands slightly, his thumb swiping across the back of my hand. He was doing the thumb thing.

Friends didn't do the thumb thing. Only couples did that. But it was just James. I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it. He was probably unaware that he was even doing it. Probably thinking about Lily, that's why…

Despite every cell in my body screaming, I didn't pull away. Hex me, but it felt…nice. Easy. Natural.

We came to the village, still holding hands as we walked up the High Street. The village was bustling with activity on such a clear day, and I listened to the babbling crowds, catching snippets of conversation and the chiming of shop-door bells as we went.

"Twelve Galleons for a pewter cauldron? They're out of their bloody mind—"

"Mummy, Mummy! I want cockroach clusters, _pleeeease_—"

"I've heard he's got Inferi on his side now—mark my words, You-Know-Who's not done yet—"

My head snapped around. Two wizards had passed us, heading in the opposite direction down the street. The rest of their conversation faded into the noise around us, but I watched them until they disappeared inside The Hog's Head.

Worry gnawed at my gut now. It was so easy to forget the outside world once I was in Hogwarts, but there was still a war brewing out here.

I cast one last look over my shoulder where the two wizards had been before I was swallowed by the crowd, and the world was forgotten once more.

* * *

Though not nearly as packed as Honeydukes or Zonko's, we still had to wrestle our way inside Dervish and Banges, holding hands the entire time. I thought it was a tad excessive, but I became grateful for it when James's much taller frame cleared an easy path through the crowd for me to follow without being jostled quite so much.

We found a pocket of space near the back of the shop, where a display case full of fluttering child-proof Snitches bounced around, ricocheting off the glass. I didn't see how these could be child-proof, moving at the speed that they were, but James was fascinated by them.

"If I ever have a kid, I'm definitely getting them one of these," he said, bending down to tap the glass. The Snitches burst into flight like a startled flock of birds, and he grinned.

"No Quaffle?" I joked. "I thought for sure you'd want your child to follow in your footsteps."

"We'll see," he amended as he straightened back up. "A broomstick first. We'll figure out the rest later."

I snorted. "Okay." I found a rack of Quidditch gloves and pulled him toward it. "Ooh, look. These are the new ones Quality Quidditch released last month. League-approved and everything."

I picked up a pair and examined them. The sign above the display read in flashing gold letters _NO-SLIP DRAGONHIDE! TEXTURED SCALES FOR IMPROVED CATCHING! PROTECTED BY ANTI-SWEAT AND WEATHERPROOF CHARMS! _

"Wicked," I said. "These would be great." I checked the price tag and wrinkled my nose. "Oh. Not for eight Galleons and two Sickles, though. Never mind."

I put them back and moved on down the aisle with James in tow. I almost forgot all about him after being surrounded by Quidditch gear. I was in my element now.

"Cleo, check this out," he said. I turned and found him staring at a broomstick on display. Oh, right. We were _both_ in our element. He pointed excitedly. "They adapted the Shooting Star with a redwood handle, look—"

"No way," I gasped. "And they put anti-stain polish on it, see? They usually reserve that for professional players only—"

He sighed, dreamy. "If I didn't love my own Bertha so much, I'd definitely invest in one of these."

"Oh, look! They have broom compasses here!"

I tugged him to another aisle, where a handful of Hogwarts students stood in a cluster talking about another item on display.

James looked down at me with a grin. "Planning on any long journeys, Gnome? What do you need a compass for?"

I shrugged. "I just think they're neat. My dad has one—"

I cringed, but James noticed my reluctance.

"Have you talked to him lately?" he asked carefully. "Your dad?"

I shook my head, fiddling with my braid. "I wrote him and my mum a few weeks ago, but I haven't gotten anything back yet. They're probably just busy. I know he's practicing for the start of the season, but…"

I trailed off, not wanting to get into the sad specifics of my life. It was bad enough that James knew my dad was Grayson Capaldi of the Appleby Arrows, but he didn't have to know that each day my parents didn't contact me, the pit in my chest only got bigger.

He squeezed my hand. "Forget them for a little bit. We came here to have fun, remember? I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"No, no, you're fine," I said. "But you're right. We're having fun. No sad thoughts today."

He grinned, about to say something, before a new voice cut him off.

"Looking for a compass so you'll know where the goalposts are, Potter?"

The cluster of Hogwarts students in the aisle with us had turned, and I recognized now the four boys as players on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team: Marc Goldstein, Johnny Boot, Rowan Finch, and Louis Corner. Goldstein was a Chaser, but Boot and Corner were the Beaters, and Finch their Seeker.

It was Finch who had spoken. He was in my year, but his sheer arrogance made him think he was far more mature and intelligent than anyone else. He would've been handsome with his sleek black hair and light brown eyes, but the cocky slant to his mouth and the way his nose was perpetually stuck in the air ruined the effect.

James took Finch's taunt in stride, only shrugging with a careless grin. "Nah, I was thinking of buying it for you, Finch. Maybe then you'll finally be able to catch the Snitch."

I snorted out a laugh as Finch's eyes narrowed.

"Funny," he said. "I don't remember Gryffindor ever beating us in a match before. Maybe if you had, I'd actually consider you a team."

James gave him a strange look. "I think you'll find in the rulebook that a team is made up of seven players, and we seem to have that number. It's all right if your math was off, Finch, I get it; numbers are hard."

Finch's face flushed, but he scowled at James. "Blundering trolls like Black and McKinnon don't count, Potter, surely you know that?" His gaze slid to me. "And neither do little lapdogs."

I drew myself up when his friends snickered. "Who are you calling a lapdog?"

He waved his hand airily. "Oh, it's nothing, Capaldi. Although" —he grinned nastily— "I am surprised Potter lets you speak without his permission. We all know how much he has you on his leash."

James took a step forward. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Finch kept his eyes on me.

"I'm curious," he said. "Do you like taking orders from Potter? He's your Captain, after all. Does that translate to your relationship as well?"

"Make your point, Finch, or sod off," I snapped.

"Such an obedient pet," Finch said. "It's interesting, how quickly Potter dropped Evans for you, Capaldi. But I guess he didn't think you were as much of a challenge. The worst Chaser in Hogwarts, hardly worth the chase. Pity."

Blood rushed up my neck to the roots of my hair. I knew I looked like a mottled red mess—my anger had always manifested itself in a furious flush—but I didn't care. Me? Potter's pet? Obedient to him? Finch had another thing coming.

I reached for my wand, but before it was even out of my pocket, a purple spell slammed into Finch's gut. He doubled over, gasping, the air driven from his lungs while James stood next to me, his wand raised in his hand while his other still gripped mine tightly.

James glanced to me. "You can have the last laugh."

My lips twisted. "My pleasure."

I pulled out my wand and said, "_Locomotor mortis_."

Finch's legs snapped together like rubber bands. He toppled over, taking Boot with him. The two boys shouted in surprise as Goldstein and Corner leapt back.

James roared with laughter, and I joined in at the sight of the wriggling heap of Ravenclaws. Before they could work out the counter-curse to use on Finch, James had pulled me down the aisle and away from them as they yelled curses after us. We collapsed, still laughing, on the other side of the shop, where a rack of Sneakoscopes were displayed on the wall.

"Brilliant," James said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Absolutely brilliant."

"Did you see Finch's face?" I giggled.

James went rigid and mimed falling backwards, his mouth gaping open like a fish. We laughed harder.

"We have to win now," I said after I'd caught my breath. "I need to see Finch crying in the dirt. It's the only thing I've ever wanted."

"We'll pummel them," James promised. "It'll be the biggest defeat in Hogwarts history."

I grinned, peering over James's shoulder. "We should probably leave before they find us."

"Right. Why don't you wait outside? I need to make a quick purchase first."

I shrugged and left the shop without any questions. Maybe it was his dad's birthday or something. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't any of my business.

I stood outside the shop, breathing in the crisp autumn air. It was already edged with the bite of winter despite the clear sky and warm sun. Once again, I found myself longing for my broomstick. The wind would be freezing if I were to fly, but on a day like this, it would be worth it.

The bell above the door tinkled behind me, and James walked out, clutching a parcel under his arm.

I jerked my chin at it. "What'd you buy?"

He grinned and looped my braid around his hand. "A gift."

I tugged my hair out of his grasp with a scowl. "What is it with you and my hair?"

"It's nice," he said with a shrug.

"Thanks?"

He checked the watch on his wrist. "We still have an hour 'til noon. Is there anywhere you need to go while we're here?"

"Scrivenshaft's, probably." I sighed. "I keep losing all my quills."

He nodded. "All right. Let's go."

We made our way to the shop in silence. I walked with my hands in my pockets this time. Despite my best efforts, Finch's words kept creeping back into my mind.

"_We all know how much he has you on his leash."_

It was nonsense, of course. Everything Finch spouted was nonsense. But I stole a glance at James as he walked beside me.

He looked completely unfazed, as usual. He strolled along with his head high and his shoulders thrown back, a commanding presence without even meaning to be one. His sharp eyes took in everything around us, the sun glinting off his glasses. He was utterly at ease; a person who had never once had to question his place in the world. He was a natural-born leader, the definition of a brave and bold Gryffindor. It was no wonder Finch—and how many others, I thought with a pang—thought that dull little me gravitated toward such a striking person like James.

We reached Scrivenshaft's and entered. There was hardly anyone in here, leaving me to browse the shelves unhindered. James waited near the front, allowing me some much-needed space to clear my head as I shopped.

I rubbed the spot between my eyes in annoyance. This was so stupid. I never should've agreed to James's barmy plan. It didn't seem to be accomplishing anything but trouble. But I owed him. I had to stick it out. There wasn't even that much time left. And then he'd hopefully be with Lily, and I'd be over whatever irritating little fancy I had for him at the moment.

I selected a few quills and paid for them. Once we were out of the shop, James put a hand on my elbow to keep me from walking ahead.

"Hey," he said.

When he said nothing else, I raised my eyebrows. "Hey?"

He sighed. "I'm sorry for what Finch said to you back there. I just wanted you to know that he's a lying git. Nothing he said was true."

I kept my eyebrows raised. "I know that."

He nodded and dropped his hand, clearing his throat. "Good."

I studied the furrow between his brows. "I'm not bothered. But you are."

He scowled at the High Street behind me. "Yeah."

"Finch is a lying git, remember? Don't listen to him."

"I know, I know." He expelled a heavy breath. "It's just—" He groaned. "The whole leash comment…"

He gestured irritably. I bit my lip.

"I'm not on anyone's leash," I said. "Certainly not yours. I'm no pet." I hesitated. "You know that. Why are you letting it get to you?"

"Because…" He floundered for words. "Because I don't want people thinking that you…that you're just…_there_. That you're just for me. That you're not your own person."

"Ah." I nodded sagely. "James Potter, a champion for women's rights everywhere."

"Oh, sod off," he said when I burst out laughing, but his lips twitched. "But does that make sense?"

"Sure?" I shrugged. "I dunno how to word it, but I feel like I get the gist."

"Good." He checked his watch again. "You up for a butterbeer?"

"Of course. What kind of question is that?" I asked him.

This time, when he took my hand in his, I entwined our fingers.

He said nothing, but I pretended not to see the pink on his face that was surely on mine as well.

And I certainly pretended that what I was doing was not dangerous in the slightest.

* * *

**Please review! I'd love to know your thoughts!**


End file.
